


Resplendent

by kazul9



Series: Some Flowers Bloom Dead [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A Plant Wrote This, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Depression, Did I mention angst, Enemies to Lovers, God of Death Yuuri, God of Spring Victor, Gods, Hades and Persephone AU, Hate to Love, I swear there's a happy ending don't doubt me, Kinda, Like blink and you'll miss it kinda temporary, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Mila Babicheva/Sara Crispino, No dogs are harmed in the story, Poisoning, Self-Harm, So much almost-death, Stabbing, Temporary Character Death, The happy ending tag still isn't a lie STOP DOUBTING ME, There will be a warning on the chapter, There’s a dead dog but I mean the dead dog lives? It’s actually not alive but alive??? Zombie doggo, all that, no one actually dies though, reference to a suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2019-07-13 23:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 121,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16028462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazul9/pseuds/kazul9
Summary: Yuuri is the God of Death and Lord of the Underworld, and has established and maintained a tentative peace after a long war with the gods of the Overworld. He thought he’d been doing an okay job, but apparently it wasn’t enough, just like everything he tries to do. Now the Lord of the Overworld demands Yuuri marry one of their gods as proof of each side’s commitment. All in all it might not be such a bad situation—Yuuri’s always admired Victor, the God of Spring, from a distance.Problem is, Victor would rather have Yuuri dead than stay his husband. In fact, Victor would just like Yuuri dead in general.AKA the weird Hades and Persephone retelling (not Greek world building tho) that I couldn’t help but writing.





	1. I

No one knows how to kill Yuuri, other than himself and his mother.

That’s actually how she knew he was the God of Death to follow in her footsteps—the prophet that came to his birthplace to divine Yuuri’s fatal weakness had keeled over dead seconds after telling her. Since gods only have one mortal flaw, one way to be killed, and Death itself was already protecting him, well… It assured that he would be the one to take over the family business when it came time.

Even if being the Lord of the Dead is the last thing he wanted to be doing.

There’s just no way you can escape death when it haunts you like that.

Though, Yuuri would be happy if death decided to make its move on him right then and there instead of suffering through this damn party. Sorry, _celebration_. It’s been who-the-hell-knows how many years since the last war between the Under- and Overworld gods had ended, and he’s managed to avoid memorial party that takes place in the mortal realm every year. Until Yakov himself sent a personal invitation to get him up here.

It makes sense that he’d eventually have to show up, considering that Yuuri himself is the one who pretty much brought on the peace, regardless of how much he regrets it. Not the peace, of course, but what he did to get them all here. Though… maybe he can’t exactly regret that either.

His eyes catch on the flash of silver on the other side of the room, as far from the corner he tucked himself into as possible. He looks away before anyone catches him staring. No, he doesn’t regret it at all.

If only they didn’t have to drag him to this stupid party. The mortal world is their neutral ground, and the place that they rented—or maybe the Overworld gods own, who knows—is nice, a wide floor for dancing in the center, small tables to stand at and drink and snack, all in all generic. Everyone’s wearing mortal clothes, too, suits and dresses expertly fitted, everything intended to draw the eye. A display of peacock feathers, and dammit, he’s one of them. He even put in his contacts for these assholes. What Yuuri wouldn’t give for the comfort of his robes, despite the dress code. Not that anyone would exactly stop the Lord of the Dead from wearing whatever the hell he wanted to a party, but he’d rather not get any more stares than he’s already garnered. Maybe he can slip off…

“Hey, asshole.” Yurio steps next to him, shoving a drink at Yuuri that he accepts with a small smile. “Stop staring.”

Yuuri sighs. Of course, of all people to catch him looking. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Good.” Yurio sips his own drink, eyes flickering around the room at all the gods talking and laughing and dancing. “‘Cause you and I both know he hates your guts, for whatever reason.”

Yuuri catches his flinch, but can’t help but suck in a shaking breath, covered up in the clamor of the noisy room. Just because it’s true doesn’t mean Yurio has to _say_ it. He doesn’t know, though. He doesn’t get it. It was before his time. “That he does.”

“At least everyone else isn’t as much of a fuck.” Yurio pauses and meets Yuuri’s gaze. “I’ve never seen them respect people like they’re going with you.”

Well, the fact that he avoids being around other gods as much as possible probably helps lend a hand to the idea that he’s actually worthy of the title of the god of death—they don’t actually know him. That, and his accident many, many years ago was worth ending the war over. Logically, it was worth everything finally ending. The wars that the gods’ fought in their mirrored worlds raged across the, the losses on both sides for the gods themselves nothing to balk at. The way it affected the mortal realm, what it made them _do_ had flooded the pools of the dead. But Yuuri was still a child when everything had happened, in the eyes of the others, and he barely remembered it. He hardly felt like an adult now. So he only hums in response to Yurio’s observation. “You should go and interact with them instead of hiding over here with me.”

Yurio snorts. “Why should I hang out with those dickwads?”

Yuuri shrugs. “You rarely ever get to see any of the old gods you used to know from the Overworld.”

“Good riddance.” Yurio’s fingers tighten around the stem of his glass.

Yuuri frowns, even if he’s not one to judge. He’d give anything to be able to sneak out of this crowded room, go back to the Underworld and get back to his bedroom and curl up with Makkachin. What he wouldn’t give to get her really relaxed so he can scratch every one of her three heads in the way she deserves and he _knows_ Mila isn’t going to.

He scowls at his glass. If he had any say in it, he wouldn’t be leaving his precious pup with anyone who isn’t him, but it’s not like he can spare one of his own gods with himself gone. It was weird that Mila offered to stay back while Yurio volunteered, but at least Makka wasn’t left with an unrepentant cat person.

Yuuri sighs. Being Lord of the Underworld sucks balls again, and absolutely no one is surprised.

“Ah, Yuuri! I wasn’t sure you’d be able to make it.” Someone emerges from the crowd leaving careful distance between them, cloaked in the shadows of the dimly-lit room—if someone thought that Yuuri might be more comfortable in a dark and creepy room, they’d obviously never been to his family’s mansion in the Underworld.

Well, when you’re nearly threatened by the God of Life because you’ve avoided directly coming to any and all other summons from the Overworld, you show up. But instead of saying all that, he gives a slight bow. “Of course, it’s my pleasure.”

Then the person steps closer, and Yuuri blinks. And blinks again, a smile spreading across his lips. “Phichit! It’s been… wow, years.”

Phichit smiles, but it’s not the smile that Yuuri remembers from when they were kids. He shouldn’t expect anything different, of course—he was another casualty caught in the crossfires of Yuuri’s half-thought-through choices. “It’s good to see you’re doing well, Yuuri. I was wondering if you’d died, it’s been, like, five years since you responded to my last text.”

Heat spreads across Yuuri’s cheeks, and he takes it back his earlier thoughts about the room—thank the cosmos for the dumb lighting hiding his blush.

“You should check your cell phone for fucking once,” Yurio hisses at him.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I just… forget about it.” On purpose. He’s too tired to pretend to not be a failure any longer than he has to. And talking to Phichit reminds him of the past, and the uncomfortable pricking on guilt builds in his stomach, and…

Phichit laughs, but again, something’s _off_. The exuberance that the god used to seem to breathe is muffled, hidden beneath something else. “Well, I imagine you’re busy. Rumor has it that you haven’t taken on a single apprentice since Minami left.”

Yuuri shrugs. “Well, I suppose he’s the last person that wanted to work with me.”

Yurio shoots him a glare.

Yuuri levels a gaze back at him—here and now isn’t the place for a debate on whether or not anyone wants to be around Yuuri, other than Yurio who seems to hang around out of some misplaced, highly aggressive pity.

“Oh!” Phichit nearly jumps out of his skin, grabbing at his own cell phone. “Ah, looks like I’ve got to go. Nice to see you guys!” And he hurries away.

“Something was off with him.” Yurio scowls after Phichit.

“Do you think so?” Yuuri tilts his head, considering. “I haven’t seen him in years. People change.”

“Well I had to see him when you avoided this shitty party last year, and… I dunno.” Yurio’s eyes narrow. “Something’s off. He’s up to something.”

“Did you develop some fortune-telling powers?” Yuuri lifts an eyebrow. “Because last time I checked, you didn’t have the patience for anything other than causing trouble.”

“Shut up, Katsudon.” He growls the words, but his shoulders relax just a tad bit. “I’m not the god of _trouble_ , thank fuck.”

“You should probably stop swearing so much when we’re supposed to make a good impression.” Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek against a grin.

And Yurio takes the bait, snorting. “ _Make_ me.”

Yuuri shrugs again. Technically, Yuuri is his superior, even if he doesn’t rule over him with the same iron grip as any of the Underworld gods. But he would never force Yurio to do anything and they both know it.

Just as he opens his mouth to suggest that Yurio seriously leave him alone any annoy someone more interesting, the room falls into a hush. A light turns on across the room over a small stage, not the glow and buzz of electric, but obviously magic and stronger than it should be.

“Damn, here comes the speech.” Yurio groans. “I hope you’re ready to resist the urge to sleep on your feet for an hour.”

Yuuri pinches Yurio’s shoulder to get him to shut up—which he does, with a glare.

A man walks onto the stage, his hair receded much more than Yuuri remembers it last time he saw it, though he holds himself straight and firm. A tall woman stands next to him—Yakov and Lilia have remained a united front even after their… romantic relations fell by the wayside a century or two ago.

“Greetings, all who have gathered to celebrate this wonderful night.” Yakov addresses the room with the fakest smile that Yuuri’s ever seen. It’s more like someone’s cracked his face open with a chisel.

Yurio snorts.

Yuuri wonders if he should get the both of them out of there before Yurio punches a man or he himself dies of boredom, whichever happens first.

“Before I make my annual speech, could Lord Yuuri Katsuki come to the front of the room?”

All eyes, as a whole, move to look toward Yuuri.

Well, maybe he could just die of embarrassment instead. He almost wishes that was his one weakness, what would slay him at the end of his days. Then he wouldn’t have to go and talk to the God of Life, who’s been alive since… who even _knows_.

But, alas, that isn’t his weakness. So with a sigh, he hands his glass to Yurio despite the thin line that the young god’s mouth is pressed into, and strides through the crowd.

They all part as if touching him would be all it takes to kill them, and it takes every bit of Yuuri’s restraint and training not to curl his shoulders in, hunch down and keep his eyes on his feet. It’s times like these, when his hands get sweaty and his heart races painfully in his chest, that he feels he must somehow be a mortal, mistaken for a god.

Something catches his sleeve.

He turns, eyes catching on blonde hair, a tuft of red at the center. He blinks. “Minami?”

“Don’t do it.” Big brown eyes stare up at him through Minami’s bangs, almost as conniving as Makka. “They don’t know, it’s—”

“Is there a problem here?” Someone emerges from the crowd, much taller than Minami, blonde hair a little curled.

“Ah, Chris.” Minami… wilts?

What the hell is going on here? Yeah, Yuuri avoids social gatherings like the plague, but he knows _this_ isn’t normal. He’s met Lord Christophe in passing before—gods of fertility and sex don’t have a lot to do with death after all—but he’s talking in an awfully familiar way. Yuuri frowns at them. “No, there are no issues here.”

“Yeah, I was just saying hi.” Minami perks up a little, waving a hand like he wasn’t just trying to… warn Yuuri?

“You wanted to say hello to the Lord of the Dead on his way to confer with Yakov?” Chris arches an eyebrow.

Yuuri shrugs. “Minami and I used to know one another—and he’s always been a little enthusiastic.” Even if enthusiasm isn’t exactly what Minami tried to communicate, maybe even the opposite. “We can catch up later, Minami.”

The young god stiffens again, Chris’s arm tightening around his shoulders. “Y-yeah, I guess.”

What the hell? Yuuri almost opens his mouth to ask more questions, insist that he talk to Minami now, but he can feel all the eyes on him—including Yakov’s. So instead, he steps forward, parting the crowd and stepping up onto the stage.

“Lord Katsuki.” Yakov nods as he holds out his hand.

Yuuri takes it, giving it a firm shake and a bow. “Lord Yakov.” Then he repeats the action with the woman next to him. “Lady Lilia.”

“Well, let’s not beat around the bush.” Yakov gestures for Lilia to walk forward, talk to the audience while he starts to move away. “Follow me, please.”

Yuuri can’t help but let out a small sigh. All he wanted was to hide in a corner, put in his decades-late appearance at these cursed gatherings, then get home. But no. Everyone’s acting weird, and the Overworld seems to be plotting something. Again.

Still, he follows Yakov, knowing full well all attention is on the two of them and not Lilia before they slip into a small room off to the side.

It’s nice and quiet in the room—not that it isn’t near silent out there, but there’s a difference between the silence of a hundred people, and the silence of two. Even if one of them is the most intimidating god Yuuri’s ever known.

There’s a couple of armchairs set around a small coffee table, and Yakov sits down in one, waving his hand at the other so that Yuuri takes a seat.

“Is everything all right?” Yuuri asks, figuring he might as well get to it. Whatever Yakov wants to say is probably the reason why he insisted Yuuri show up, practically twisted his arm into it.

“Oh, everything is perfectly fine.” Yakov chuckles, startling Yuuri. “We aren’t going to be talking about another war here, don’t worry. So long as you’re down there maintaining the dead and managing your gods as well as you have been, I think we’ll be fine.”

Yuuri frowns, ignoring the overly generous compliment. “Then why am I here?”

Yakov takes a deep breath. “Well, there’s a little turmoil over the gods that are stuck in the Underworld or Overworld from our peace treaty. It was a fair trade at the time, but now that we’re at peace… it’s unnecessary for them to be separated from their family and friends.”

Yuuri nods, even as his gut sinks. It’s selfish—when peace was established, higher gods went as ambassadors, captives really, to the opposite side to reside there for a while. The time limit was never established, but… Yurio and Mila would be going home, then. Yurio might be a pain in the ass, and Mila might sometimes be a little over the top, but they filled the hole that was left when his friends were taken away by the negotiations. Of course, this would mean Phichit and Minami would come back, too, but…

“I agree.” Yuuri gives a smile, even if he’s not sure he feels it. “I’m sure that they’re anxious to be getting home. We might be immortal, but we still feel the passage of time.”

Yakov gives a stiff nod. “Agreed. However… when it was brought up with my council, it was agreed that we’d want to have a sign of peace remain.”

So much for not beating around the bush. Yuuri arches an eyebrow. “And that would be?”

“We’d like to arrange a marriage between a high-ranking god from both worlds.” Yakov sighs, like it’s a relief to finally get the words out. “We’ve already decided on a suitor from our world—there was a competition for the position in fact. Fencing. Oh don’t look at me like that, I thought it was odd too, but the younger gods do what they want, you’d know that as one yourself. Still, we’ll need a candidate from your side. If you need to defer, I understand, but the sooner we decide and announce it, the better. It may not be a cause for conflict yet, but it will be.”

Yuuri glances down, clenching his jaw. The Underworld is smaller in numbers, if just as powerful, as the Overworld, there aren’t an abundance of gods in Yuuri’s inner circle, who help him run the Underworld and help the dead along their journey. They can’t be spared, and unless he himself gets married, there would be negotiations as to where the couple would live. And above that, they’re all his friends. He can’t subject them to this, even if marriages between gods hardly ever last their entire lives—he knows his parents are rare in that. The bond can be broken, even if he hears it’s a bit painful. He can’t sacrifice anyone for this, but if it’s already been spoken about and decided in the Overworld—which isn’t exactly fair, but it is what it is—it has to be done.

So… “I’ll do it.”

Yakov blinks. “You can’t be serious.”

Yuuri shrugs, leaning back and trying to seem casual even as his heart races in his chest. “I am. Though I’m not thrilled that I’ve been told about these plans involving my gods _after_ it’s already been decided.”

Much to Yuuri’s absolute shock and slight horror, a pink tinge spreads along Yakov’s cheeks. “Believe me, I was planning on this talk being a negotiation instead of an ultimatum. Unfortunately, a certain…” His face grows downright red, and Yuuri nearly lets out a relieved breath, realizing Yakov’s _furious_ and not ashamed. “ _Someone,_ who has been punished thoroughly, instigated this arrangement into being public and finalized before the anniversary of the peace treaty.”

“Hmm.” Yuuri tilts his head. “I suppose it would be fitting for this wedding to be around the peace treaty.”

“Unfortunately, that was _his_ logic.” Yakov straightens his jacket, almost tearing it off as his face becomes a frightening shade of purple. “I promise that the Overworld will make this up to you.”

“Good.” He should probably ask who the “he” behind this scheme is, but he can’t bring himself to care enough about that. He’s getting married. Soon. And he doesn’t even know to who. Screw being a responsible Lord of the Dead, Yuuri could desperately use a drink. Or five. Or ten. Preferably more. “Now, who am I… marrying?”

The word chokes up his throat, and reality smacks him in the face. He just agreed to bind his remaining days and his powers to a _stranger_. Who is going to live in his mansion, and eat at his table, and… Please, please, _please,_ they’d better not expect him to do _more_.

Yakov rises. “Well, you might as well come and meet him—though you already know each other well enough.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows. He doesn’t really know many gods from the Overworld, after… Well, after he accidentally caused peace between the two. But still, he follows Yakov back out, barely hiding his wince as all the eyes turn back toward him. At least he’s more worried about being married to an _absolute stranger_ at the moment?

Who the hell could he even know from the Overworld?

Lilia’s voice drones on in the back of his head, and then he and Yakov re-join her up in the spotlight of everyone’s focus. Yakov starts talking, explaining the situation with no new details that Yuuri has to pay attention to. Instead, he keeps glancing through the crowd, trying to recognize anyone without meeting any eyes. Who is it? What kind of god are they? Are they as afraid to marry a stranger as Yuuri is? But… no, of course not. They apparently fought to win the hand of a higher lord of the Underworld, someone they don’t even know. Will they be glad they caught Death himself? Are they going to try and use him?

“And Lord Yuuri Katsuki has agreed to this great alliance himself, uniting the Over- and Underworld in more than just peace,” Yakov takes a step back, Lilia following so that Yuuri’s stranded alone on the small stage. “And, everyone from the Overworld—and probably some from the Underworld as well—are aware of his groom-to-be.”

From the opposite side of the stage, a man steps up. Taller than Yuuri, hair silver and shining in the dim light, and eyes of a blue that had enraptured Yuuri as much as a kid as they do now.

Oh… Oh no.

“Yakov, I—” he starts, but his voice is barely a whisper past his own lips, and Yakov either doesn’t hear, or doesn’t care.

“How fitting that the God of Spring, the start of life, Victor Nikiforov, would be united with the end of life, Lord Yuuri Katsuki.”

Cold chills tickle beneath Yuuri’s skin, his skin breaking out in a cold sweat as Victor steps forward and smiles at him.

Could he…?

No. Yuuri shakes out of his own thoughts enough to really look at Victor, at the cruel twist to his smile, how his eyes narrow as they land on Yuuri. He knows he shouldn’t expect anything else, but of course Victor still loathes him. Yuuri had hurt him. He meant to do the opposite, but intentions can only bring you so far out of a grave you dug yourself.

“What a pleasant surprise!” Victor manages to chirp, despite the cold seething through his expression. “I never expected that I’d be marrying _you_ , but I suppose this works out for the best.” He sips a glass of champagne, holding a full one in his other hand.

For the best? Yuuri barely holds back a scoff. “You don’t have to lie. You hate me,” Yuuri murmurs, clenching his hands into fists so that he doesn’t cower, he doesn’t run. Whoever thought he was strong enough to lead an entire faction of gods was _wrong_ , he can barely hold himself together on good days, much less now. “I’m sure if you wanted to give your position up to the runner-up of your ridiculous competition, no one would blame you.”

“Oh!” Victor taps his lips, grin downright vicious. “But I fought so hard for this opportunity. And, well, you know what they say.” He leans in, lips brushing Yuuri’s ear and Yuuri can only just _barely_ keep his shiver under control. “Keep your friends close, and keep your enemies closer.”

That is what they are, isn’t it? _Enemies_. Even if it’s one-sided.

He bites back a strangled sob, clearing his throat instead and raising his voice enough that those around them can hear. “Ah, don’t get too handsy. We aren’t married yet, after all.”

There are some chuckles from the gods near the stage, and Victor gives out a bark of laughter.

Victor steps away, but holds out the glass of champagne in his other hand. “Hanging onto your purity? Well, how about a toast to our future happiness, then?”

Yuuri never thought that “happiness” could be a word spit with venom, but tonight seems to be a night filled with the impossible. Still, he takes the glass—and freezes.

Being Death incarnate comes with a few perks. Yuuri has everyone’s respect regardless of whether or not he’s earned it since he can innately sense every god’s mortal weakness, though it’s something he’d rather not pay attention to. He’s also sensitive to dangerous situations that would kill mortals, like… poison.

“As I said,” Victor winks, keeping his voice low, “keep your enemies closer.”

Yuuri frowns at the glass, careful to keep his hand from shaking. “You do understand that if you can’t find the way to kill me, you’ll be trapped in the Underworld forever in this agreement?” He leaves out the, “with me,” the largest frustration and disappointment of the equation, since it really doesn’t need to be said. They can’t get divorced as easily as another married couple, what with peace and all that riding on his shoulders.

“You say that as if it’s one-sided.” Victor’s grin only grows. Pleased at the challenge, presumably. “You won’t be trying to kill me?”

“Oh no.” Yuuri smirks, lips curling without a shred of humor as he tries to hide the gaping wound growing in his chest. “Haven’t you heard what they’ve said about my domain?” Because Yuuri knows what they say hides beneath the mellow sky of the Underworld, and deep within the pools of the dead. Regardless of what rumors are true and which are false, they paint a horrifying picture of him and his home. “You’re as good as dead already.”

And _finally_ , that damn smile on Victor’s face breaks.

Yuuri’s stomach shouldn’t clench to see it go, but it does. His smirk falls, and he hides it by turning to the audience, raising his glass. “Cheers!”

Knowing beyond a doubt that this won’t kill him, even if it does make him feel like crap in the long run—though can he really feel _worse_?—Yuuri takes a sip of his poisoned drink. “Hmm.” He swirls the liquid, desperate to not have to look at Victor. “Adds a pleasant almond flavor.”

And before Victor can get out another word, Yuuri strides away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a slight obsession with the Hades and Persephone myth, and I've always wanted to write a retelling, but I write YA and none of my original ideas really fit into the category. So now you, my lovely readers, get to enjoy some god-tier angst.
> 
> *ba-dum tssss*
> 
> In what world would Victor ever want to kill Yuuri without being super OOC, you ask? Well, stay tuned to find out...  
>  ~~Pls don't kill me, I swear there's a logical answer to this question~~
> 
> Tags to be updated because I may touch on some dark things! If I do, there will be a note at the beginning of the chapter to give fair warning of possible triggers or squicks. And thank you to the ever lovely Blue for betaing my typo-filled mess! <3
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v)


	2. II

Now, Yuuri’s not sure that “ordinary” and “Lord of the Dead” should reasonably go together in the same sentence, but for him, they do. They certainly don’t for his parents—they are exceptional in every sense. He might be a tad bit biased in that, of course, but it’s something he could easily argue, armed with mountains of facts.

He has his own mountain of facts and thoughts to prove himself the opposite, and it seems to be reaching quite a peak, today.

He’s not strong enough for this. The only reason that no one can see the way his limbs shake is because of the way his robes swath over his body, black and shimmering and so much nicer to move in than the tux—but these are clothes that he’s used to, that he’s supposed to be comfortable in, and they only make things feel _worse_.

“Katsudon.”

A hand falls on Yuuri’s shoulder, and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

Luckily, Yurio just snorts. It’s gentler than his usual snorts, though, and it makes Yuuri want to crawl in a hole and _die_ —though that isn’t exactly new. “You can back out, you know. Have someone else marry him.”

Yuuri hesitates, eyeing the other people moving around the room, mostly just tidying up. They’ve already finished with Yuuri, assuming he doesn’t sweat or cry or worry away all of their makeup and hair styling. It would be impressive to break their magic, but if anyone could do it, it would be him. He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter who he marries. Apparently he _fought_ to get this position, and…”

“And he did it to get at you, didn’t he?” Yurio meets his eyes in the mirror.

Yuuri glances away. Victor had made that pretty clear last night. It’s cruel and unusual, considering it has to have been half a century since… well. He can’t exactly blame Victor for not forgetting, he can even understand why he’d be angry. This does seem a little extreme, though.

“What happened between you two?” Yurio frowns, tugging Yuuri’s robes into place, knowing how they fall better than anyone else here does. “He used to be so, well, soft. And happy. And ungodly annoying about it all, too. And then…”

Yuuri shakes his head. “It’s not my story to tell.”

“What the fuck.” Yurio turns to meet Yuuri’s gaze head-on. “The guy has literally fought his way to get down into the Underworld to, well, what? Torture you? Take revenge? And that’s only _his_ business?”

Yuuri just shrugs. It’s hard for people to understand. He can only half-understand it, and he was there.

“Okay, stop with the bullshit.” Yurio jabs his finger at Yuuri. “You can get away with your self-deprecating oh-woe-is-me act when we’re all stuck in the relative safety of the Underworld, but we don’t know what he wants, and he obviously hates you. You probably don’t even deserve it.”

“His hate?” Yuuri blinks down at Yurio, wondering not for the first time how that small frame manages to hold such intense passion, and what he’d ever done to deserve such a fairy young god in his life. “Oh, he’s justified in how he feels, I’m sure. I… I don’t regret it. But he’s justified.”

Yurio squints at him. “You don’t regret something? For _once_?”

Yuuri laughs, a small trickle of humor creeping into him. “Yeah. I used to admire him as a kid. I thought that maybe we could talk, but it was before the war ended, and…” And it had been cold. So very, very cold, even for a god. His senses were tingling in warning him of death, but he’d figured it had to do with the obscene chill that would have instantly murdered any mortal.

It had not.

“Let me guess.” Yurio crosses his arms. “It didn’t end well? And you won’t give me shit beyond that, will you.”

Yuuri smiles, a real smile, and ruffles Yurio’s hair. “You got it.”

“Asswipe.” Yurio smacks away his hand, smiling a little.

“Lord Katsuki?” Someone pokes their head in behind them. “The priests are ready.”

Yuuri nods at them, and they duck away. He makes to follow them, but something catches his sleeve.

“No matter what that little fuck does or says, remember that I’ve got your back. Okay?” Yurio holds out a hand, green eyes burning behind the blonde of his bangs.

“Okay.” Yuuri grabs his hand, gripping it for a moment before turning and leaving the room.

The god from before nods at them, turning and guiding them through the hallways and elevators of the building. Normally they wouldn’t be doing this in the mortal realm, but time is of the essence with Yuuri having to get back to his duties. In fact, normally there aren’t a lot of bells and whistles to this whole ceremony, only close family and friends celebrating a relationship they’ve watched grow into something worthy of something like this, or alternatively a small gathering to help bring together two families that benefit each other. It’s the commitment that counts, in the end.

But nothing about Yuuri and Victor being together in the first place is normal, in more ways than anyone could ever gather.

The room where they’re to be joined is drenched in white, decorations dripping from the walls, and from the ceiling in enchanted un-melting snow. People crowd the area, dressed in pearly finery that Yuuri can’t imagine will ever see the light of day again. For once in his life, he _feels_ like death in his black robes, and he clings to the comfort of the light, smooth fabric that moves and ripples like the pools of the dead.

He walks up to the makeshift altar where, of course, Victor’s dressed in white like the rest of the room, his blue eyes standing out more amidst the monotone everywhere else.

Yuuri’s made peace with the long silence that he hopes the ceremony will hold, much unlike the chatter he’s experienced from couples that actually gave a damn about each other, but it seems Victor has other plans.

Victor gestures toward the room, holding a hand out to let the enchanted snow fall on it while he smiles that soulless smile. “It reminds me of the first time we met.”

For a second it’s as if Yuuri can feel the bite of bitter wind through his robes, digging its frost deep into his lungs, leaving goosebumps on his skin as he tries to trudge forward in the spring’s harsh storm. But that was then, and this is now. Yuuri glances away before the memory dredges all the way to the surface.“It wasn’t the first time we met.”

“What?” Victor hisses.

Yuuri resists the urge to flinch, lifting up a blanket of apathy and hiding it there. “Does it matter?” Well, does it matter to _Victor_? Because it matters to Yuuri, it matters to the young god who had longed to create life just like the beautiful boy with silver hair in the Overworld, it matters to the beautiful dreams that he had held in his heart until they were crushed and stomped into, well, Death. Who needs to create life when you guide spirits beyond the grave, after all.

And Yuuri’s dreams in exchange for the peace of gods and mortals alike seems like a fair trade, but it doesn’t feel like it sometimes.

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises,” Victor mutters, eyes taking in Yuuri.

The priests shush them, thankfully, and the ceremony begins. Fingers move delicately, practiced, certain, taking and weaving the strings of fate that all mortals have and binding Yuuri and Victor together.

The room sways slightly around Yuuri as his fate and his power and everything is tied with a man who only wants to kill him. Well, his entire life is tied around death, this really shouldn’t be surprising. A tingling races underneath his skin, and his robes are too hot. Maybe it’s what it feels like to have your strings messed with, maybe it’s a panic attack, Yuuri honestly can’t tell the difference in the swirl of chaos that takes up his head.

And then it’s done. It’s final.

People come up to congratulate them, to celebrate, and Yuuri puts a smile on his face, even as he fights the prickling sweat and the sharp sting at the corner of his eyes.

For the first time in years, Yuuri achingly craves his mom and dad. They’d know what to do. But they’ve been off exploring the worlds since they retired after a millennia of serving the dead. Maybe he could get ahold of Mari, but she’s been extremely busy ever since she became the head of the Reapers. And, sure maybe Yuuri could run home, uncover his cell phone and contact them, but what good would it do? He’s the head of the Underworld, he’s the one who should be able to do something.

But he can’t.

As soon as there’s an opening, before Victor can get another cutting word out of his mouth, Yuuri strides from the room, attempting to keep his movements graceful but more than likely unable to hide the fact that he’s running. He winds through the building, passing mortals who can’t see him, don’t comprehend him, only shiver as his robes brush their arms and legs, until finally he finds that abandoned room where the lesser gods had prepared him.

Yuuri walks in, slamming the door shut, fumbling with the handle only to find there’s no lock. He’s not safe. He’ll never be safe again.

A sob claws up his throat as he collapses against the door, curling around himself. What good is being a god if you can’t magically do everything, even simple things like lock a door that doesn’t have a lock? What good is being a god if you have to be flawed like the mortals, needing glasses and having anxiety and being able to feel fear—feel anything at all? What good is being a god when you have to _live_?

Distantly, Yuuri knows that he has more power than Victor in his own way. Even if Victor wants to kill him, it’s not like anyone else knows how to murder him—other than Yuuri’s mom, which even if anyone he knew where she was, good luck getting that out of her. Not to mention, Yakov always stands by his word, Yuuri can definitely call in that favor to the Overworld and use it to his and his people’s advantage. It’s a good deal.

But… But…

He’d thought that he’d gotten over what happened with Victor eons ago, buried away with his disappointment and resentment at becoming Lord of the Dead, the numb apathy at losing his ability to create life. But he hadn’t. He wishes he could just scrape those memories out of his brain, start over and become the calm, cool Death that people expect him to be. But he’s not that. He’s just Yuuri, and no one wants Yuuri.

Dammit all, Yuuri really wishes that he could have at least brought Makkachin here.

Something jostles his side, and for one confused second Yuuri wonders if somehow his wishing managed to drag Makkachin here, that maybe one of the gods in attendance has the power to grant that wish. But Makka _can’t_ leave the Underworld. Then the banging reaches his ears, along with the voice shrieking behind it.

“Open this door, Katsudon, or I _will_ break it down and you _will_ regret it.”

For a solid second Yuuri just clutches his head, squeezes his eyes shut, and lets himself believe that if he ignores Yurio, the young god will walk away and leave him alone. That everyone will forget about him. That no one will miss him, to the point that he could slip away into the night, hide amongst the mortals and pretend he’s never had any godly worries until one day, somehow, his mortal weakness is found by accident or on purpose, and his life ends and he’s swept off to whatever comes next.

But Yurio would never give up on him like that, and it would be cruel to do that to his parents and Mari. So he somehow drags himself to his feet in shaky, jerking movements, attempts to wipe away the tears and snot and fix his hair, and then opens the shaking door.

Yurio’s fist flies forward, almost smacking Yuuri in the chin. “ _Finally_. I know that you hate this shit, but—” He takes in Yuuri’s form, and his eyes grow wide.

Yuuri flinches, too tired and too done with everything to try to hide it. “I’m sorry Yurio. I know I’m… I’m sorry.”

With a deep breath, Yurio pushes past him into the room and slams the door shut. “Now _I_ don’t give a fuck, but people are beginning to notice you’re missing, and I know that _you_ would give a fuck.” He crosses his arms, giving Yuuri another once-over. “So here I am.”

Yuuri manages to bark out a laugh, muffled by his stuffed nose. Yurio’s a bit of a little shit at all times, but at least he never throws out empty, meaningless words. He’s seen Yuuri at his worst, and somehow can still tolerate his presence and… tries to look out for him? In his own, weird way. “Thank you, Yurio.”

He gives a tisk. “Don’t thank me, just let me murder that asshole when his time comes.”

Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat, and he wishes more than anything he could reach inside of himself and rip out his bleeding, raw emotions because _Victor wants him dead_. “Deal.”

“Fucking liar.” Yurio shakes his head. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

“But you just said—”

Yurio waves his hand. “They can wait a little longer. And if someone starts complaining, you can make them shit their pants by telling the whole room how to kill them. Now get over here and sit the hell down.”

Well, if it gives him an excuse not to go back out yet… Yuuri walks over to the chair where someone had done his makeup earlier, he can barely remember what they did, much less who. “That would make quite the statement,” he murmurs as he settles in.

Yurio snorts as he makes a mess of everything on the counter, then starts working on Yuuri. “No more of a fucking statement than Victor is making toward you.”

Yuuri winces.

“Don’t move, unless you want to look worse than before. Close your eyes.”

“Sorry.” He closes his eyes, letting out a breath. “Does everyone know?”

“That he gave you _poison_? And made you sick the whole night? No, they fucking don’t because you told me not to tell them.” Yurio’s voice gets quieter while he works, but it’s never soft. Yurio had once, after drinking far too much alcohol, confessed to Yuuri that he liked the Underworld better because no one expected anything from him, that he wasn’t ever asked to act like the delicate, frail angel he looked like but wasn’t inside.

“Good,” Yuuri breathes, moving as little as possible. “They can’t know.”

“Why, because he’d actually be held accountable for being an absolute bastard?” He keeps working while Yuuri doesn’t answer, eventually letting out a breath. “I used to admire him when we were little, you know. He was so powerful and perfect, even the older gods thought so. But something changed when the peace treaty happened.”

“I imagine it would have.” Yuuri has to fight the urge to lean into Yurio’s touches, to reach out needy hands for a hug when they should be focused on getting him back out there. But Yurio would probably smack him, send him back out there looking like a mess. Makkachin wouldn’t judge him or smack him. Or, well, wouldn’t judge him _much_.

“You’re not going to tell me a fucking thing, are you?” Yurio takes a step back, movement muffled in the thick carpet.

Yuuri doesn’t open his eyes though. Doesn’t open his mouth, either. If he tries, he might just ruin all of Yurio’s work.

“Fucking hell. I’ll end him for making you cry like this.”

“No, you won’t.” Yuuri opens his eyes, looking up at Yurio and squaring his shoulders.

Yurio’s lips pull back. “Fine. But I’ll make his life a living hell.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “He’s going to be in my house, in my kingdom. He can only do so much.” The words hold more weight coming out of his mouth than they do in his head. Victor doesn’t have to _do_ anything, does he? Just hate Yuuri and remind him of all the ways he messed up, that he could’ve done better.

“You underestimate him.” Yurio purses his lips, but then nods. “Well, let’s get this shit over with so we can go home.”

A smile twitches along Yuuri’s lips. “Home?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Yurio turns and stomps to the door, but not before Yuuri catches the pink on his cheeks. “You ready?”

No, he’s not ready to butt heads with the man who wants to kill him, who used to be someone Yuuri admired. He’s not ready to have a constant reminder of the past stuck in his very house. He’s not ready for anything. But, unfortunately, he already made his choice. He takes a deep breath, biting back the tears. “Yeah.”

Yurio snorts. “Liar.”

“Absolutely.” Yuuri stands up, straightening his robes, and taking a deep breath. He is better than before, he supposes. Crying like that always leaves him feeling a little… empty. Like the worst of the fear and anxiety and anger were sobbed out in tears and left him a little hollow and numb. Not that fear isn’t still wrapped tight around his chest, but he’s too tired to obsess over it right now.

Right now, he has to go face Victor, and the dozens of gods only here for the spectacle of him and his wedding.

Wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow, you guys blew me out of the water with the last chapter, like what? Even??? I'm so happy you guys liked it! And I hope the this update doesn't let you down!!!
> 
> This chapter was supposed to be a tiny part of chapter two but then Yurio and Yuuri started talking and 3k happened so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Hopefully it isn’t too disappointing? We start off with Victor and Yuuri next chapter so *eyes emoji*
> 
> Thank you to Blue for betaing! And I live off of kudos and comments, so thank you so much to everyone who leaves them. <3
> 
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	3. III

“May I have this dance?”

Yuuri freezes, smile rigid as his eyes narrow and flick over to Victor. He’s refused anyone else so far, Yurio practically hissing at his side to keep everyone away—something Yuuri would have scolded him for any other time, but he’s just too _tired_ to care. But, of course, Victor isn’t like everyone else. He’s Yuuri’s husband.

“Fuck off,” Yurio spits, venom dripping from his words.

Victor’s eyebrows arch, his smile twisting. “And who are you to tell me what to do?”

Yuuri puts a hand on Yurio’s shoulder, stopping whatever retort Yurio has. “It’s all right.”

“You should really have trained him better.” Victor flicks the fringe of his hair from his face, a move that has a practiced smoothness. “I thought that going to the frigid underworld might teach him some manners. Instead, he’s feral. How disappointing.”

“I don’t _control_ other gods, I _guide_ them.” Yuuri straightens his spine, meeting Victor’s eye. And of course, he couldn’t really tell Yurio what to do anyway, what with him being a part of the Overworld. But the point still stands.

“Oh really?” Victor smiles in a way that bares his teeth. “Well, if only you’d afforded me the same consideration, years ago.”

“You have no idea—” Yuuri snaps his mouth shut, cutting off his words and the searing heat threatening to escape his chest. He glances down at Yurio, who’s red enough that he might explode any moment, and he knows that the young god is only holding himself back for Yuuri’s sake. Honestly, Yuuri wants to berate Victor for holding onto something that happened so long ago, but, well. That would make him a hypocrite, wouldn’t it? “You said you wanted to dance?”

Victor inclines his head a tad bit, his grin growing as if he actually won that argument. It’s only just begun. “Yes. It’s customary for mortal couples to dance after being wed, and when in Rome…” He holds out his hand.

Yuuri takes it, holding his head high. “I’d say if you wanted to pretend to be mortals, we skipped quite a few traditions.”

“Oh?” Victor leads them to where some other gods are dancing, something with strings and a piano weaving delicately weaving through the air. “Such as?”

“Hmm.” Yuuri tilts his head as he lets Victor take the lead in his steps. It’s not a battle worth fighting, not yet. “Rings. A ceremony with a kiss. Actually caring for your partner.”

Victor laughs, a dry and dead thing. “Oh, they have marriages of convenience, you know they do.”

“They do.” Yuuri nods. “But it’s gone a bit out of style. And not to mention, typically no one, god or human, volunteers—no, _fights_ to marry someone they’ve apparently hated for, what? It has to have been over fifty years now, hasn’t it?”

Victor hesitates in his movements. It’s small, barely noticeable, but Yuuri still smirks.

Victor continues to smile, though, the damn thing plastered on his face. “Well, you know, one of my specialties as the Lord of Spring is growing things. You’d be surprised at how easy it is to grow and nurture revenge.”

“I don’t think I would.” Yuuri glances away, and hopes beyond hope that Victor can’t hear the way Yuuri’s heart races in his chest. “You really think that you can figure out a way to kill me? I think you’re overestimating yourself. No one knows how to, and you’re forgetting the fact that I have Death itself on my side.”

“Oh, believe me, I didn’t forget.” Victor leans in a little closer, Yuuri’s attention snapping back to him. “Maybe you have death on your side, but I’m not alone either.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes fighting with his feet to keep dancing and not to run from the whole situation. “You really think that being a god of life will help you _kill_ someone? Even I would have thought you were smarter than that.”

“Oh? You hold me in such high regards, I’m honored.” Victor nods his head again, mocking. “You’re right, I’m smarter than that. Life might not help me, but other gods will.”

“I hate to be the one to break the news, but I thought you already knew. We’re going to the Underworld. You’ll be surrounded by _my_ people, not yours.” Yuuri latches onto the words, clings to them because that’s really the only comfort he has in this whole situation. He gets to go home, even if his potential murderer is in tow.

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” Victor’s eyes move from Yuuri’s face, taking in the crowd around them. “The best part about this whole arrangement is that everyone gets to come home, wouldn’t you agree?”

Yuuri takes a second to observe Victor’s smugness, to shove down the panic that threatens to crawl into the emptiness his tears from earlier left behind. “I am happy they have the choice, if that’s what they want.”

“Yes, yes. I know Phichit and Minami have missed their homes.” He turns back to Yuuri with his predatory grin. “We’ve become such good friends since they came up to visit. And of course a friend of mine will be accompanying me, to help me settle. You’ve met Christophe before, haven’t you?”

Yuuri glances around, following where Victor had been looking shortly before. Phichit’s leaning up against a wall nearby, and he raises his glass and gives a smile with no warmth when Yuuri meets his eyes. There’s a flash of blonde as Christophe twirls with a partner nearby, sending Yuuri a wink when he catches him looking. And then there’s the splash of bright red that’s hard to miss on the far side of the room, near where Yurio stands and seethes. Minami doesn’t move to acknowledge him like the others, knuckles white as he clenches his fists at his side.

“What have you done?” Yuuri looks back at Victor, his chest feeling smaller and tighter by the second. Phichit was one of his best friends growing up. Minami was his apprentice. Chris, well, he’s never had any issues with him before this very moment. “What are you doing to them?”

“Me?” Victor blinks innocently, raising a hand to his chest in mock horror. “I’ve done nothing but tell them the truth.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows. The truth? If they knew the truth, then… “You’re lying.”

“Am I? That’s quite an accusation to throw at your husband, you know.”

Yuuri grimaces, his emotions poking through his mask as if it’s made of wet paper. “You’ve already threatened to kill me. I can’t do much worse.”

“Well, you could kill me first,” Victor chirps.

The words rip right through Yuuri’s heart, fragile thing that it is. He forces out a laugh to cover up the wound. “No. You know I won’t.”

“Hmm.” Victor tilts his head. “I could kill myself.”

Yuuri sucks in a breath. His brain digs up old memories, the faint days of watching Victor create spring from the snow, destroying all of the death and ice with green and life and beauty. For that never to exist again, for Victor to… A familiar pang tugs in his gut, one he can’t shove away. “You wouldn’t.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You already said that I’ll be stuck in the Underworld if I don’t manage to kill you, and that would be unacceptable. Besides,” Victor twirls them around the room as if nothing at all is wrong, “if I died, do you think that would reflect well on you?”

“Well then, how lucky for both of us your method of dying takes a while, and can occasionally be reversed,” Yuuri drawls, hands gripping Victor far too tight. “If this is your way of trying to get me to tell you my weakness, you’ve failed. It’s not that easy.”

“Good.” Victor leans in closer. “I want a challenge.”

For the first time since, well, the accident, Yuuri lets himself look at Victor. The bags under his eyes that he obviously tried to hide, the dullness in those pale blue eyes, the short cut of his hair. So, so short. To think, when Yuuri was younger it was his dream to be able to braid it, chat with Victor and ask him to show all of his secrets. Well, every one of those things are impossible now. Victor hates Yuuri, and Yuuri… he wishes that he could hate Victor. More than anything. Then he could fight this battle and win it. But looking at Victor, there’s an ache in his chest that’s just… sad. He wishes that he could help him be less tired, less…

Well, maybe Victor won’t let him help with that. But a challenge? That he can do. After all, Yuuri hates losing.

So he mirrors Victor, leaning in so that he only has to breathe his words. “Oh, believe me. You’ll have a challenge. You can have my friends, you can have a place in my house, you can get as close as you want. But you will never be able to kill me, Victor. I’ll enjoy seeing you try.”

The music dies down, and Victor’s eyes search Yuuri’s face as they slow.

But Yuuri keeps his expression carefully blank, taking a step back and giving a slight bow. “It was so nice dancing with you.” And he turns and leaves, walking back to Yurio, the one person in this room that he can trust, apparently.

“What the fuck did you just say to him?” Yurio glances between Victor and Yuuri. “He looks like you just punched him in the gut.”

Yuuri’s eyes flick back, then quickly away after catching Victor’s eyes. “Good.”

Yurio’s mouth drops open. “What the fuck happened out there, Katsudon?”

“Nothing new.” Yuuri sighs, tiredness creeping into his limbs and weighing them down. He can’t leave yet, not as the guest of honor as it’s his own wedding, but damn does he want to. “Things are just going to get… exciting for a while.”

“No shit,” Yurio mutters, glancing around the room. “At least we’ll get to be home soon.”

“Mmm,” Yuuri hums, not entirely trusting his voice. Home is where the excitement will truly begin.

 

* * *

 

“You’re a moron.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri drawls, letting his head roll to the side so he can look at Minako. She’s sprawled out in an armchair, wearing her magenta and violet robes for once, eyes twitching as she takes in Yuuri flopped down on the couch. It’s not like he can help it. Anyone would be exhausted trying to single-handedly keep Yurio from tearing apart their new guests. Mila instigated about as much as she tried to reign him in, after all. He doesn’t think the house has been this lively since he was a kid—Phichit and Chris are loud and curious and way too observant for their own good, Victor barely any better with his quips and walking around like he owns the place. Weirdly, Minami is the quietest of them, his usual, well, spazzing replaced by silence. He’d insist on Phichit and Minami at least finding a place to stay in the city beyond the mansion, but he knows that Victor would make that more complicated for him than it has to be.

Yuuri may be Lord of the Underworld, but Victor’s his husband.

His _husband_.

Yuuri groans, covering his face with his hands. “I _am_ a moron.”

Minako sighs. “Why didn’t you at least call me?”

For a second Yuuri considers using the he-doesn’t-carry-around-a-cellphone excuse, which would be an issue, but wasn’t the reason he didn’t call Minako. “I… didn’t think to?”

“Yuuri Overthinker Katsuki didn’t think to call his most trusted advisor, the most trusted advisor for five generations of Death, before marrying a man who’s legitimately out for his head?”

“Um.” Yuuri winces. “No?”

She sighs again, and he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know she’s shaking her head. “What are we going to do with you?”

Yuuri drops his hands, looking over at her. “What are we going to do with _him_ is the question.”

“What can you do, at this point? If you break your bond with him so soon, it will be seen as an insult, regardless of whether or not Yakov believes how he’s threatening you—which, that would be a hell of an uphill battle considering Victor apparently fought to marry you.” She rolls her eyes. “Why the hell did you agree to this?”

Yuuri groans. “Well, it seemed harmless! Yakov didn’t tell me who I was marrying, and I didn’t ask—it’s not like I _expected_ someone who hates me to marry me. Everyone who was displaced by the peace treaty would get to go home and I…”

“You still feel guilty about that.” Minako nods. “You feel guilty about everything from that day. But you know you’ve helped more people than you’ve hurt with everything you’ve done.”

Yuuri laughs without humor. “Try telling that to Victor.”

“Is that why he wants you dead?” She arches an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I guess.” Yuuri glances away, eyes tracing the patterns of the marble floor instead. “I mean… he has every right to be.”

“I don’t think so. I think—”

“Can we not talk about it?” Yuuri curls up, bringing his knees to his chest. “Please. Maybe later. Just… not now.”

She sighs. “Fine. But does anyone else what he’s up to?”

“Probably Christophe. I don’t know what he’s told Phichit and Minami, but they’re somehow in on this whole assassination plan. If you even want to call it that.”

“Well, it’d fit.” She chuckles. “What a mess.”

“I know.” Yuuri lets out a long breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, the last time you thought you made a mistake this big, you ended a war that had spanned throughout all the worlds, so who knows what this one will bring.” She grins.

Yuuri snorts. “My funeral, that’s what.”

Minako shakes her head. “You’re underestimating yourself. Again.”

“What am I underestimating? What can I do?” His voice shakes a little, but it doesn’t crack. At least he has that.

She’s quiet for a long moment, her eyes unfocused as she stares beyond Yuuri, into the room bright with the light of the sunrise. The room is cut from the same marble as the mountain that the mansion and its pools are perched on, but Minako’s long since painted the walls a deep sort of maroon and filled it with the most comfortable chairs he’s ever sat in, though she moves them to dance. It’s been a long time since Yuuri’s seen all of the chairs pushed back so that he could practice, small limbs following Minako’s motions in jerky, childish movements. In that moment, it seems like a separate lifetime, someone who isn’t him. But his limbs remember the dances well, and he’ll need to dance soon. He’s put it off long enough.

“Protect your heart.” Minako says, finally focusing on Yuuri again. “Above all else.”

Yuuri blinks, then reaches up, grabbing a fistful of his shirt where the muscle in question pounds underneath. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean that you have a bunch of snakes in your house, and they’ll use every angle possible to get at you. You know that it’s your weakest point. Be careful.”

Yuuri flinches, but says nothing. Minako is the advisor of Death, yeah, but… She’s also kinda his therapist. She makes the tonics that help him control his anxiety on the bad days, she’s brought him back from some really terrible places. Of all people, she knows his weakest front most intimately.

“I wish they weren’t here.” Yuuri mumbles, gripping his shirt tighter.

“Me too, kiddo. I like when things get exciting, but not when those things are trying to kill my precious little Death.” She gets up from her chair, taking the few steps over to Yuuri and ruffling his hair. She laughs as he swats her away. “I think we’ll manage to make the most of it, though.”

“How? It’s four against one. I don’t care if I’m Death incarnate, they’re gods too. Phichit’s the god of gossip, he’ll get all the information that’s out there on me. I’m not entirely sure what the hell Chris can do that would help, and Minami… well, we don’t know how he developed, since he was too young when he was here last. And we don’t even need to talk about Victor. I’m screwed.”

Minako flicks his arm, ignoring Yuuri’s protests. “You’re not alone. You have me. You have that kid that follows you around like a lost, angry kitten, not to mention his friend. And half of those people that you say are on Victor’s side used to be your friends, are you sure they aren’t now?”

The image of them glaring at Yuuri as he danced with Victor flits through his mind. “I’m sure.”

“Even though they only have one side of the story?”

Yuuri glares at her. “I’m not going to tell them if _he_ hasn’t.”

She dips her head, probably trying—and failing—to hide her smile. “It’s your story too, you know.”

“I’ve screwed things up enough.” Yuuri scowls. “And I _keep_ screwing things up. Besides, they’ll call me a liar. And then stab me. Or poison me. Or…” He drags his hands down his face, groaning. “This is going to suck.”

“That’s putting it mildly, considering who Victor was to you, as a kid.” She tilts her head, considering him. “Do you still feel the same way about him?”

Yuuri frowns. Does he? Well, he cares enough to not _want_ to kill Victor, at least. He hasn’t heard anything about Victor’s creations or anything in years—then again, he hasn’t wanted to. He hasn’t wanted anything to do with the Overworld, and since he’s long past his days of Reaping with his sister, there’s been no need to be involved. Until now. So, yeah, it’s different than before, not the same. But it’s complicated. Because a small part of him, tiny and starved, wishes that he could be close to Victor, just as he wanted when he was younger. Victor’s still a force to be reckoned with, still impressive. Just also a tad bit terrifying.

He knows better, though. No matter what he wants, Victor calls him an enemy.

“No,” He whispers, sitting up. “It’s not the same.”

“But you wish it was.” It’s not a question. Minako knows too much about things sometimes, he has to wonder if maybe it has something to do with her gift—but she’s never told anyone what she’s the god of, and at this point it’s a little late to ask. Yuuri’s heard stories about people who have.

So he just shrugs. “I dunno. It doesn’t matter what I want, anyway. I’d probably just screw it up again.”

Minako sighs. “You’re determined to be like this today, aren’t you?”

A smile spreads across Yuuri’s lips. “Always.”

She shakes her head. “Then I guess we’re done for today. You’re only going to think yourself into circles if you stay here, and we both know the dead don’t wait for anybody. Not even Death himself.”

Yuuri snorts.

“And you’ll feel better after you tend to them.” She pats him on the shoulder, before turning and leaving the room.

His breath catches slightly in his throat as the thought of the soothing brush of his robes, and the ringing of water flooding his mind. Minako’s right, nothing’s going to be solved right this second.

For now, it’s time to face the dead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for your support of this weird project of mine, it's honestly meant the world to me! <3 It’s been a Rough Week (someone kinda accidentally triggered me into a depressive spiral by bringing up my Dark Past and how terrible my writing’s been, and then it was one thing after another, and I haven’t really written in days oh no *drowns in failure*), so I’m not really feeling like a decent writer atm? I hope this chapter is all right??? Ahhh??!!?!?!
> 
> Well, now that I’ve gotten the emotional diarrhea out of the way! Shoutout to Blue for betaing this mess, and massive hugs for everybody leaving kudos and comments, you guys are seriously the best! <3 <3 <3
> 
> Who’s ready for some Mila and some Yurio next chapter? ;D
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v)


	4. IV

The water laps gently against the walkway of dirt, almost reaching towards Yuuri’s bare feet as he strides by. The rest of the pools are calm, the only motion being near his footfalls. It’s always been fascinating how even the pools react to him and his power, more so than even his mother or his father. Another thing that made him destined to be Death, but one of the few he doesn’t hate. He likes to think he’s somehow a comfort to the souls, that they know when he comes they’re about to find peace, whatever that may be for them.

The fog of morning still hangs over the pools that Yuuri walks between, obscuring the forests that grow between the water and their falls, and hiding the mansion behind him where all of his troubles lurk. He made sure he hadn’t been followed out here, though anyone should know where to find him. He’d like to think they’d know better than to interrupt him now, but…

He stops at the precipice, toes curling into the damp earth as he looks down the mountain at the steaming pools and their streams. There isn’t a breeze, and yet there’s whistling and moaning like there’s wind berating the trees.

Minako was right, the dead really are getting impatient. Yuuri’s never heard them this loud, normally their voices are a hum of peace that almost lures him into the pools. He wouldn’t die if he did fall in, but getting _out_ would be another matter. It’s only water in the pools—in fact, there are a couple meant only for the living closer to the mansion, their heat a blessing in the cold winters. But the dead souls that this water stores are another matter.

Maybe he really should take a new apprentice or two for when he has to leave again. They won’t be able to handle everything he himself does, but maybe it would keep the poor souls from getting this loud.

He snorts. Like hell anyone’s luring him out of here, after the corner they backed him into this time. And like he has the time or the trust to spare when he has his _guests_.

Well, nothing to be done now except for what only he can do. With a deep breath, he begins to move.

The moaning and whistling become a hum that rings through Yuuri’s bones, digs into his mind and lets him _feel_ the death around him. The sorrow, the anguish, and a modicum of soft peace. He glides along in smooth movements, closing his eyes and letting everything flow through him, filling his limbs and making him heavy with more than just the exhaustion of the last few days. But wallowing in the pools of mourning doesn’t ever do anyone good, as Yuuri knows too well. He latches onto the bright glimmers of peace amidst the mass of emotion and draws it forward with the movement of his limbs and the flaring of his robes, the fabric keeping the fingers of the dead from latching onto him. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to see how the water dances alongside him, dull in the gloomy morning light. The first time he saw it, he was in awe of the sparkling water, of the way the dead and his parents managed to make music out of something that most people found terrible and scary. Maybe it’s not as impressive as creating life but sometimes Yuuri likes to think it’s impressive in its own way.

After a time, Yuuri too lost in the music to know how long, the weight of his lack of sleep and excess of anxiety settles like a rock in his gut, and he slows his feet, settling the song and the dance of the spirits around him until there’s no sound save for the lapping of the water at his feet, and the soft, distant whispers of the dead across the mountain.

He opens his eyes and lets his arms fall to his sides, barely keeping his legs from collapsing, too. It’s not as much as he should get done, but at this point the dead have to be used to being let down by Yuuri on their journey to the bottom of the mountain. He’ll take a nap and try again at sundown—it’s harder at any point of the day other than a sunrise, or maybe the full moon, but he’ll be able to get some work done.

Shifting on his legs a bit to make sure they’ll stay steady beneath him, he turns to head back to the mansion.

Clapping rings out in the empty air, nearly sending Yuuri stumbling into one of the pools.

“Wow, Yuuri! You’ve gotten a lot better since the last time I saw you.” Phichit smirks a pools-length away, leaning against a tree with Christophe standing at his side.

“The dead could barely keep their hands off you, with how you seduce them like that,” Christophe shifts on his feet, smiling in a way that doesn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s not _seducing_ , it’s—” Yuuri shakes his head. They’re obviously not here to learn about how the dead move on. Phichit didn’t even care much about that part of life when he was younger, when he didn’t apparently want Yuuri dead. He eyes the younger god, trying to piece together how someone he’d once considered a friend could go so far as to side with Victor. Well, Yuuri supposes he might have pulled away after the whole incident that ended the war, but he just… he can’t… He shakes his head. Regardless, they aren’t here to appreciate his dancing. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Watching you.” Phichit shrugs.

Yuuri arches an eyebrow, shifting his feet against the soft soil. “You aren’t here to have another go at killing me? I’m not exactly eager to deal with poisoning again, but I’d rather you all get it out of your system if that’s what you’re here to do.”

“Oh no.” Christophe takes a step forward, and Yuuri’s pleased to see the pool pulls back from him, just slightly. The dead really do hate those with ill intentions. If only they’d reach out and drag him in instead. “Victor is the only one who will be killing you. We’re his… support, shall we say?”

Phichit nods, eyeing Yuuri. “After all, we won’t let you get away with what you did.”

Yuuri bristles. “What did he tell you?”

“Nothing you don’t already know.” Christophe turns toward Phichit. “He really is good at playing the fool, isn’t he?”

“He always has been.” Phichit’s eyes narrow.

Yuuri’s throat constricts, tight despite trying to swallow it down. Is that who he is? Has he deceived himself, too? Does he… does he deserve punishment for what he did? After all, he’s the one that destroyed Victor to the point that, instead of being in the Overworld and celebrating life, he’s down in the Underworld, chasing Death.

“Yuuri!” A new voice rings out, familiar in a way that Phichit’s will never again be again. “I heard that you were back, I can’t believe you’re out here already after everything—”

Yuuri glances to his side to find a brilliant head of red hair coming to a halt, Mila’s face more curious than anything, and at her side is—oh no.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” Yurio growls, his hands already balled into fists.

Mila places a hand on Yurio’s shoulder, eyes flicking between Yuuri and the two others. “I know you guys are new here, but Yuuri doesn’t like to be watched while he works.”

“And _you_ at least know better.” Yurio jabs a finger toward Phichit.

Phichit shrugs again. “I thought that maybe he’d gotten over it and grown up. Guess I was wrong.”

Yurio bares his teeth. “ _You_ —”

“Um, hey guys!” Another person emerges from the trees behind them, shorter than all the rest. Minami.

Christophe turns and narrows his eyes at the kid. Minami shrinks back, but still keeps his gaze fixed on Yuuri.

“That was… that was amazing, Yuuri.” Minami’s words are so soft that they’re hard to make out. Still, Yurio’s fists unclench slightly, and Phichit glares. “I’m happy I got to see it again. I, um. I still practice sometimes.”

It takes a second for his mind to process one of these people saying something _nice_. But when he does, Yuuri smiles, small and tired, but real. “I’m sure you’ve improved a lot, Minami. You were always so talented—I’m sure you can outdo me one day, if that’s what you wanted.”

Minami bristles slightly. “Don’t you say that! No one, and I mean _no one_ has ever been as good a God of Death as you’ve been. ”

“You can say that again,” Christophe drawls, looking at his fingernails.

“What the fuck does that mean?” If Yurio were a cat, his fur would absolutely be standing on end.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Phichit practically chirps. “The dead deserve someone who—”

“Enough.” Yuuri raises his chin, looking down his nose at Phichit and Christophe. “I _am_ the god of death in more ways than one, and it would be in your best interest to not antagonize me.”

Hurting Phichit and Christophe, on top of being a sickening prospect, would be a bad idea. Phichit is the son of war gods who may support Yuuri now, but are extremely protective of their children. Christophe he knows less about, but from what he has gathered, he’s well-loved by most in the Overworld. Literally, in some cases that Yuuri wishes he could scrub the knowledge of from his mind.

But somehow, for some reason, they think that Yuuri is ruthless and powerful and evil. He’s unsure of a lot about himself, but he can say firmly that he isn’t any of those things.

Luckily, they don’t need to know that.

They just need to know that Yuuri knows exactly how to kill them, and could tell absolutely anyone.

Phichit shrinks back, and though Christophe’s expression doesn’t change, Yuuri can see his chest rise as he sucks in a breath.

“My Lord?” Mila pipes up.

Yuuri turns his gaze toward her, keeping his face carefully blank. She doesn’t typically address him like that—he made it clear neither Yurio, Mila, or anyone else from the Overworld had to when they came down. This was their home now, too, and Yuuri is just Yuuri. Though he also hadn’t taken over for his parents yet then, either. He frowns. “What is it?”

“Breakfast will be getting cold, and I know you’re particular about that.” She bows her head.

He narrows his eyes, fidgeting a bit with the fabric of his robes where no one can see it. He is _not_ particular about food. His dancing sucks so much energy out of him, he eats like a pig no matter the temperature of the food. But he doesn’t argue. He can see the value in presenting the three of them as a united front. “Very well. Lead the way.”

Mila nods, guiding a growling Yurio around and back toward the manor.

Yuuri pauses before following, glancing down at Christophe’s feet at the edge of the water. “I’d be careful, if I were you. I might have mercy, but the dead are much less kind. Drowning may not be how you die, but you’d wish it was if they dragged you under.”

Christophe jumps back from the edge of the water.

Yuuri smirks, and strolls after the other two.

It takes too much time and no time at all to get back inside the mansion and through the white halls, Yuuri’s skin crawling with the eyes he feels on him. He hasn’t seen Victor all day, and the other two—no, _three_ , had snuck up on him unnoticed. Even as he perches on a loveseat in Mila’s private quarters, he can’t help but glance around. Phichit and Christophe can’t reach him here, but what about Minami? He seems to oddly support Yuuri, but he’s still with _them_.

Gods, what did he do? Why are they all trying to kill him? He understands people being disappointed in him, being let down for believing that Yuuri was anything spectacular. Everything he’s known for was an accident or a last resort, he knows he’s pathetic. But… wanting to _kill_ him? And Victor… Victor he…

Tears prick at his eyes and he closes them for a long moment, focusing on breathing. There has to be a reason. He’s a fuck up, he’s screwed up unforgivable things, but that’s not worth killing over, there _has_ to be more.

Right?

A soft _boof_ breaks Yuuri from his thoughts, startling his eyes open as a wad of brown fur knocks him back into the seat.

He laughs despite himself, scratching through Makkachin’s fur and the small patches of scales on her ears, cheeks, and legs, happy to find she only has a single head at the moment. The scales itch, he knows they have to by the attention she gives them, but he didn’t really have a choice—this was as close to her living form as he could get. Another screw up Yuuri made. Something cold twists in his gut, but doesn’t dig in as deep as the rest. Yuuri would and has given everything for Makka.

“Yurio figured you could use her.” Mila shrugs as she sits down across from Yuuri, grabbing some flaky pastry from the small coffee table between them.

“It was a joint effort,” Yurio mutters, shoving a muffin into his mouth.

Yuuri chuckles, eyeing the food. He should eat, but his stomach rolls at the thought. He smiles at them, though. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Mila shrugs, nibbling at the pasty.

“No Sara today?” Yuuri grabs what looks like an innocent slice of bread, soft and fluffy between his fingers. There are all sorts of spreads but… no, plain would be best for now.

Mila shakes her head, sighing. “No, there’s no time with the guests here. And her brother’s being so possessive, as if those assholes are here to go after Sara and not to kill you.” She rolls her eyes, but then grins. “She’s already taken, besides.”

Yuuri forces himself to keep chewing, the bread in his mouth tasting like ash.

“Way to go.” Yurio crosses his arms. “Just _joke_ about him dying, great idea.”

Mila scowls at Yurio, then turns to Yuuri. “I’m sorry. It’s just… so ridiculous. This isn’t the Victor I used to know.”

Yuuri glances down at his fingers, smushing the bread down so that it’s flat. They don’t know. No one knew. He doesn’t even think Yakov knows the full story—it’s only him and his parents. “Regardless, thank you for staying by my side. Though, now that you’re free to go home—”

“Don’t even think about it.” Mila pops the last bite into her mouth.

“We’re not gonna just say, ‘Oh, our friend’s about to get murdered? Sure, yeah, bye.’ Moron.” Yurio tears at his food.

Yuuri smiles. That may be the first time he’s called Yuuri his friend out loud.

“Besides, we think we could help.” Mila leans back, regarding the room.

Yuuri tenses. “What do you mean?”

The two exchange a look.

“Katsudon.” Yurio starts, and then stops, scowling at the carpet before meeting Yuuri’s eyes. “I know you think you’re some sort of massive fuck up, and I know you don’t want to get anyone hurt. I’ve been hanging around your self-deprecating ass long enough to know you don’t want to drag anyone else down into this. But if you let us help you, maybe… maybe we could handle this?”

“Without murdering anyone,” Mila adds, and Yurio scowls, grumbling an agreement.

“What do you have in mind?” Yuuri feels the calm mask he’d worn outside just minutes ago settling onto his face, but he can’t help it. His mind is heavy with exhaustion and frayed with the threats, and he’s not sure _how_ he feels.

Mila’s green eyes spark with a fire behind them. “If you told us your weakness, and theirs, we could come up with plans to protect you.”

Yuuri’s mouth drops open, every inch of him tense. Gods don’t allow anyone to know their weakness. It’s ridiculous to let them. When you live for eternity, you make enemies, and people you once thought were friends, lovers, family, can and will turn on you. It’s why he’s so feared, so revered. When he stepped into his role, it was as if another sense was added to his arsenal, and oh, it was a powerful one. In training to be Death, Yuuri had been a Reaper for a while, taking souls destined to die and escorting them into the pools. Because when there’s a god that needs to be taken care of, causing too much chaos for anyone to handle, it’s his job to slay them. The only people he wouldn’t be able to see the weakness of would be his parents, since they still have the powers of Death as well—it’s why they tried to use a prophet to know Yuuri’s own weakness. His own _father_ doesn’t know his weakness, because it’s such a private thing that he doesn’t want to know. Only his mother, and him.

It isn’t… It’s not something to just _ask_ for.

Makkachin whines on Yuuri’s lap, and he releases his grip on her fur, rubbing out where he’d been holding on too tight. She rolls over on him, paw colliding with his chest and nearly knocking the wind out of him. Makka is amazing in every way, but her ability to give him a reality check sometimes feels absolutely life-saving.

“You okay?” Mila leans forward, voice gentle.

“Yeah, I… Yeah.” He nods. “But I can’t tell you that. They aren’t—they said _they_ wouldn’t hurt me. Only…”

“Only fucking _Victor_ ,” Yurio growls.

Yuuri nods. “He’s the threat. And I won’t tell you how to kill him. Or me.”

“We could help.” Mila’s voice is firm, but not pushing.

“I know. I… I trust you guys. And I’ll probably need you.” He chokes on the words, hating that he’s so _weak_. He wants to just restrain Victor and everyone on his side, but it wouldn’t work forever, and they have forever to work with. “But that’s not a line I’m willing to cross.”

“Hey.” Yurio jabs a finger toward him. “You promised me I’d be able to end Victor.”

Yuuri laughs, scratching underneath Makka’s chin. “Yeah, of course. I’ll keep that promise.”

“Good. I can’t wait to just fucking—”

“Yurio.” Both Mila and Yuuri warn in tandem, breaking the moment and sending them both into a fit of giggling.

Yurio huffs, but doesn’t argue, and the levity of the moment takes a bitter undertone. Yurio isn’t one to back down from a fight, but he’s doing it. For Yuuri. Mila herself is a goddess of fire, terrifying to behold and quick to burn anyone, though she’s far more stubborn about it than the wild storm that Yurio is.

Any other day, this moment would be different.

But today is today, and it’s come to the point where he’s had to consider telling someone how to kill him, and how to kill someone who used to be the world to a much younger, much more naive Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys were so, so kind last chapter, thank you so much. <3 I'm still climbing back up from The Pit (TM) but you guys seriously helped so much. I'm absolutely sending everyone virtual hugs.
> 
> In other news, I finally converted one of my last friends who hadn’t seen YoI into watching, so I am a proud human bean.
> 
> Anyhow, welcome to Angstfest 2k18. I promise more pieces will move next chapter. As always, shoutout to my beta, Blue! I can't believe how many kudos this pile of words has, thank you? And I owe everyone who comments a piece of my soul, tbh. <3
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v)


	5. V

Nobody—and oh, Yuuri means _nobody_ —has a shit-eating grin quite like Victor.

And he uses it all the damned time.

Then again, he is trying to kill Yuuri all the time. At least it keeps him grinning? And keeps him from whatever other ominous habits the man surely has tucked up his sleeves.

Though, can he _really_ top murder?

Yuuri sighs, picking up his fork and eyeing the poisoned pork. Apparently, Yuuko had made his favorite, the dish that Yurio nicknamed him as, katsudon—even if he looks more eager than even Yuuri normally would be to eat it. But someone got a hold of his dish before it got placed in front of him, and now it’s laced with… something? Yuuri can’t quite tell, but he’s not stupid enough to eat the whole thing after the wine incident at what ended up being his engagement celebration. No one should have to be in a bathroom that long.

So he picks up a little rice, and shoves it in his mouth, swallowing without chewing. That should be enough to prove he wouldn’t die from it. “It isn’t poison that will be the death of me. Can we move on?”

“Oh?” Victor tilts his head at the other end of the round table. “You’d like to move onto stabbing? Or the more… creative methods?”

The room goes dead silent. Yuuri grabs Yurio’s elbow, half to keep the younger god from leaping down the table and stabbing his fork through Victor’s eye, and half to keep himself from shaking into pieces. The worst pain Yuuri’s ever experienced would probably be some of the incidents with fencing Mari when he was younger, but purposeful stabbing sounds much, _much_ worse.

But instead of trying to pull free, Yurio just shoves his own bowl of katsudon at Yuuri, pulling away the poisoned bowl. For a second he looks like he might chuck it at Victor, but he sets it down instead. “Don’t screw up meal times Victor, for fuck’s sake. You never stop being dramatic, do you?”

“And you’ve never stopped being a spitting, hissing kitten, have you?” Victor turns his broken smile at Yurio.

Christophe chuckles as Yurio fumes.

“Enough,” Yuuri snaps, looking around at everyone. He didn’t want to come to a group dinner, but Yurio and Mila thought it might be a good way to keep an eye on Phichit, Minami, Christophe, and Victor. Especially considering no one had seen Victor in the morning, or even the afternoon. He might have been sleeping, crashing after yesterday’s events, but the bags beneath Victor’s eyes seem to suggest otherwise.

Yuuri’s not entirely sure he wants to know what he’s been up to.

“I’ll taste any poison you want, it will have no effect.” Yuuri forces himself to meet Victor’s eyes, cold blue boring into his brown. “For all you know, it’s only a specific person or a god that can kill me. Maybe I can only be killed on a full moon. This is a wild goose chase, and you’re all fools for imagining it will end in anything but trouble for you.”

“Do you really think I hadn’t thought about that? You wound me, Yuuri.” He places a dramatic hand over his heart. “Don’t think I don’t know your patterns and rituals, who and when you avoid what.” He sips his water, glancing around at everyone at the table. “We’re only getting started. After all, I have all of eternity to try. Thanks to you.”

Everyone turns to look at Yuuri, eyebrows arched and lips parted in questions unasked.

Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat, and every part of him feels like it’s jittering, muscles aching to break free of his skin even if he’s not moving. Victor didn’t tell them anything. Yuuri hasn’t told anyone either. And, from the way Victor nods and smiles, he was testing to see if he had.

What the hell is he doing?

“You seem to think an awful lot of yourself.” Yuuri reaches out, taking his water and sipping it despite the urge to gulp it down. “If your game’s only just begun, so has mine.”

“Oh? How exciting.” Victor’s voice is flat as he takes a bite of his food, eyes widening a bit.

Yuuri can’t help a small smirk. It is his favorite dish, no one can resist it.

The silence carries weight as it stretches longer and heavier, only broken by the scrapping of utensils and the soft noises of the living.

“Are you sure you don’t want yours?” Yuuri murmurs to Yurio.

“I’ll be fine.” Yurio snorts. “I’m not the one who has to work after this bullshit.”

Yuuri frowns, but he knows Yuuko has a soft spot for the temperamental young god, and he can beg something from her later. Though… Victor had mentioned knowing his habits, what he does. He’s not going to get a hint from doing that, of all things, but… Could Yuuko have…?

No. He has no evidence that Victor isn’t lying about that. He could have learned what he knows from Minami and Phichit, assuming he knows a thing. If he thinks poison is the way to go, he’s nowhere close to the truth. He couldn’t even remotely guess the actual answer by his methodology so far. Maybe Yuuri can’t tell Mila and Yurio about his fatal flaw, but he _could_ work with them to perhaps lure Victor into trying other methods, place red herrings in all that he does. Though… it seems like a lot of work when he probably couldn’t guess how to kill Yuuri, anyway. It’s so painfully obvious, it should’ve been the first thing he tried.

With a sigh, he starts making work of the dish in front of him, even if he can’t taste anything with Victor’s eyes pinned to him. He does have work to do after this, sundown is coming up…

He eats as fast as his mouth and manners allow, for sustenance rather than comfort or flavor, and rises to his feet. The light filtering through the sheer curtains on the windows is beginning to tint orange, and he still needs to change from his semi-casual clothes back into his robes. “Excuse me.”

“By all means, husband dearest.” Victor smiles at him, and Yuuri’s stomach churns.

Maybe eating _was_ a bad idea.

Still, before he vomits all over his _husband dearest_ , he spins and leaves the room. Once he’s sure that no one in the room would be able to hear his footsteps, he runs, leaping up the stairs and nearly collapsing into his private chambers, thankful beyond anything that the doors and windows were long ago cursed so that no one uninvited could come in. It’s safe. Maybe the only safe place in this entire world.

With a shaky breath, he peels out of his clothes, not bothering to pick them up before stepping to his wardrobe. He has a number of robes made from the fabric that the dead’s fingers find too silky to grab hold of, all dark, mostly black. Figuring he could use a little color, he takes the deep blue one out and slips it on, fingering the embroidery that his mother had woven into it many years ago.

What would they think of him now? Would they finally admit to regretting giving him control? Maybe that’s why they’ve been gone so long…

Yuuri winces, already hearing Minako’s voice echoing the words that she’s said so many times. It’s his anxiety talking, he can _see_ that, but it doesn’t make it shut up. His parents are smart, he knows that, too. They wouldn’t have left if they’d thought it would all go to hell.

If only they could see him now.

With a sigh, he smoothes the fabric. As much as he’d love to hole up in his room and drown in his thoughts, there’s work to be done. He strides back over to the door, swinging it open and finding a couple of glaring green eyes waiting for him there.

“You look like shit.” Yurio straightens from where he was leaning against the hall, eyeing Yuuri.

“Thanks.” Yuuri keeps walking past him, not entirely sure he’s up for Yurio’s particular brand of kindness at the moment.

“Did you actually sleep when you took that nap earlier?” Yurio jogs a bit to catch up.

Yuuri flinches, remembering the spiral of thoughts that left him crying in bed earlier. “What do you think?”

Yurio’s quiet for a moment as they walk down the stairs. This is the banister that Yurio used to slide down, shortly after he got here. Yuuri tried to be nice and ignore it, but Mari had picked a fight with the kid, and somewhere out of that whole exchange Yuri had become Yurio. It was too confusing to have two Yuris, that was Mari’s logic. And it had been so long since Yurio had last protested the nickname.

Yuuri has an inkling of a feeling Yurio might even like the nickname, now.

“Sorry,” Yurio mutters, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants as Yuuri opens the door to outside, letting him walk out first.

Yuuri blinks, trying and failing to remember what he’s apologizing for. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” The usual venom isn’t laced in his words, and it makes Yurio seem almost… tired. “That asshole’s trying to kill you, setting you off so that you can barely get a moment’s rest—and don’t think I judge you for that, if it was me, I don’t…” He shakes his head. “Whatever. Point is, this is shit, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Yuuri smiles slightly, ruffling Yurio’s hair to get swatted away a second later. “We’ll find a way through it. I swear.”

Yurio glances up at him with large, questioning eyes, and Yuuri’s acutely aware that he’s so young, not even a human’s lifespan of years behind him. He puts on a good front, has a temper and a passion that envelopes everything else about him sometimes, but he’s still young and has only really known the worlds at peace. But Yuuri means it, he’ll find the way out of this situation, and he’ll make sure Yurio’s okay.

His smile grows as they head across the lawn. “You know, you don’t have to follow me around. I’m not at risk of keeling over dead right now, Yurio.”

“I know that, asshole.” Yurio grimaces up at him.

Yuuri nips the inside of his cheek to keep his smile from becoming too fond. “You aren’t one of my gods, so—as you like to remind me—I can’t tell you what to do, _but_ I will say that rumor has it the barn cats that lounge around the gardening shed have been yowling over the past few days while we’ve been gone. I think they miss you.”

“Oh, that is a low blow.” Yurio narrows his eyes. Footsteps slowing. “Are you really going to be okay? This morning…”

“This morning I wasn’t expecting them.” Yuuri turns, narrowing his eyes at the pools gleaming in the warmth of the sunset. “This time, they can’t surprise me.” He has to focus on the dance, for his sake and the sake of the dead. But if his anxiety had any perks, it would be the fact that he’s used to thinking during _everything_. This is nothing.

Yurio hesitates, but then nods, his shoulders losing the tension they’ve had ever since they left the Underworld. “I’ll see you when you’re done, then.”

Yuuri nods. “I could use someone to help me take Makka for a walk.”

“Does…” Yurio’s eyes shift around, checking for anyone hiding in the shadows. “Does he know Makkachin’s here?”

Yuuri bites his lip and shakes his head. “I don’t know how he’d react. And if Makkachin chooses to go with him…”

Yurio nods his head. “I was wondering why you didn’t take her around after lunch.”

“She’s with Yuuko for now.” They know that Yuuri doesn’t typically go down into the kitchens or where the maids and other workers are—he makes nearly all of them except for Yuuko and Takeshi nervous, so they come to see him, more often than not. Makka luckily loves them, and Yuuri can’t have her get caught up in all of this, for her safety and his own selfish reasons.

“Good.” Yurio nods, turning back around. “Bastard doesn’t deserve her. See yah.”

Yuuri stares after Yurio, mouth gaping as he tries to come to peace with the fact that not only did Yurio not call Makka a slobbering mess, but he wants her to be safe, too. If the cold pricking of fear in his gut wasn’t so damn _real_ , Yuuri might consider this all some strange dream. But, no. This is reality, and he has the dead to take care of.

He turns back to the pools—

And nearly runs into a head of blonde hair.

He opens his mouth to scold Yurio for not _actually_ leaving, but the words die in his throat when he sees the smash of red bangs.

“U-um. Hi.” Minami lifts a hand in a half-wave. “Sorry to surprise you, Lord Yuuri.”

“Just Yuuri is fine,” Yuuri says by default as his brain runs wild. Should he order Minami back into the house? Order him to explain himself? Unlike Yurio, he _is_ Minami’s lord, the ruler of the world he belongs to. He has the power here, he just… isn’t sure how to use it. Or if he _should._ The last time he’d seen Minami, before the treaty, he was Yurio’s age and trailing on Yuuri’s heels everywhere when he was home, babbling about everything and nothing. Phichit used to jokingly call him his not-so-secret admirer and—well, what a different time _that_ was.

“Yuuri.” Minami smiles, not with the blinding happiness he used to have, but it’s something more than he’s had since the treaty celebration. “I… I just wanted to ask if I could watch you dance. It’s been so long.”

Yuuri narrows his eyes. “Weren’t you there this morning?”

“No, they had me—” He snaps his mouth shut, glancing around like Yurio had done a few minutes ago.

So someone else is somewhere around here. No point in sending Minami away, then.

“Well…” Minami fiddles with his hands. “I wasn’t able to catch it. So can I?”

“Of course, Minami.” Yuuri manages to crook his lips into a smile, even as a tightness grows in his ribcage. What he wouldn’t give for those simpler days, when he didn’t have the dead to care for, and he never had to worry about being stabbed in the back in any sense of the phrase. “It’s nice to have you back. I wish… It would be nice if someday, it could be like before.”

Something in Minami’s expression breaks, cracks with a suddenness you can almost hear. “I… I can’t do this.”

“What?” Yuuri takes a step back, taking his turn to eye the treeline and the pools just a couple feet away. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t trick you, Yuuri. I can’t lie to you, I can’t… I can’t _kill_ you.” Minami’s voice breaks, shattering that tension in Yuuri’s chest. “He made me, I wouldn’t have chosen to, but when he found out that I could—”

“ _Enough._ ”

Yuuri turns around, back toward the house, to find Victor coming toward him, flanked by Phichit and Christophe.

“Enough of what?” Yuuri steps out in front of Minami, standing as tall as he can while knowing that if it came down to it, this fight is now three versus one, and that’s not counting Minami on whoever’s side he would settle on. “We’re talking. He’s one of my gods—we’re allowed to do that at the very least.”

“I _know_ what you were about to tell him, Minami.” Victor glares at Yuuri’s chest, where Minami’s head would be.

And Yuuri’s very grateful the poor kid doesn’t have to see it first hand. “If he doesn’t want to play your ridiculous games, he has every right to come to me. We aren’t _children_.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Christophe spits.

Yuuri stills, trying to follow his train of thought.“I’m the Lord of the Dead. I take care of a world as big as earth, and then some, as I escort people to the afterlife. There are a lot of things you could call me, but I don’t think a child should be one of them.”

“You’re as petty as they come, aren’t you.” Christophe crosses his arms, while Victor smirks next to him.

Yuuri glances back at Minami, finding him fidgeting. “What’s going on here?”

“I—”

“You already know,” Victor says lightly, drawing his attention back from Minami. “There’s no point in re-hashing it out.”

Yuuri glares. “I remember you as a better liar than this, Victor. If he was going to say something I already know, then you wouldn’t have interrupted. Though how you heard…” Yuuri turns his gaze to Phichit. “Your powers have improved as well, haven’t they?”

Phichit stiffens, but doesn’t say anything.

“And I remember you as being smarter than this,” Victor growls. “Do you really think I’d—?”

“Hey!” A new voice interrupts, shouting from behind Victor’s crew. “What’s going on here?”

Oh shit.

“Nothing, Mila,” Yuuri snaps, wishing there was someone he could have drag her off, away from this mess. “Go back inside.”

“Like hell.” She mutters, walking around Christophe’s side, glancing at the three of them. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Christophe snorts. “It’s a wonder that anyone would defend such a weak, self-centered—“

Mila’s fist collides with Christophe’s face, a sickening _crunch_ echoing in the empty air.

“Don’t you fucking insult a man you don’t even know.” Flames begin to flick at the edges of Mila’s shoes as she glowers at Christophe.

He reaches toward her, she smacks his arm away, before there’s shuffling and kicking, moving too fast for Yuuri to track. His stomach sinking as he stands, frozen.

It only takes seconds, and then they’ve stopped moving, Chris’s arm holds firm around Mila’s neck, even as she trails burning fingers down his skin.

He scoffs. “These are the only sorts of people you can get to support you, Death?”

Tears prick at Yuuri’s eyes. It’s just like Chris said. He’s scared, he’s weak, he doesn’t know what to do. He’s protected Minami, but now they have Mila, and…

He sucks in a breath, squaring his shoulders.

No. No more. It’s only been days, but Yuuri is done with this bullshit. This is his home. These are his friends. He has a job to do, without interruptions. None of these gods own him. The water ripples, crawling from the pond as the dead form arms and fingers that curling around Yuuri and his clenched fists. “If you hurt her, I will kill you. I won’t hesitate to end you, and make your soul’s time in my care the worst of your miserable life.”

Christophe releases Mila, eyes flashing as she collapses to the ground, coughing. “You wouldn’t—”

“Why do you think I spent so long training to be a Reaper?” His eyes turn toward Phichit, who shrinks back. “Phichit can tell you. Hell, he probably has. It wasn’t so I could have tea with the suffering souls of the dead and the damned.”

The color leaves Chris’s face.

“I see we’re at a draw.” Victor’s eyes take in Yuuri’s form, calculating.

“No,” Yuuri snaps, taking a step forward. “Not yet. I won’t have this happen again.”

“Oh?” Victor tilts his head. “And what do you propose?”

What _does_ Yuuri propose? He knows what he wants, to keep everyone safe. Preferably not to die as well, but he’s working on that. And Victor, well, Victor just wants to end him. But right now, Yuuri has no control over how he chooses to attempt his murder. Well, no longer. “In exchange for me not asking questions, not interfering with your nonsense, you won’t harm a single god here unless I give you permission to.”

Victor arches an eyebrow.“Including yourself.”

Yuuri gives a curt nod. “Yes. Instead of your ridiculous attempts to end me at any odd hour of the day, you’ll have an opportunity twice a day to take my life, using whatever method you see fit. Assuming that you earn that opportunity.’

“Oh?” Victor huffs. “It sounds like you’re just making this needlessly complicated for me.”

“You said you wanted a challenge, don’t you remember?” He sure remembers Victor using that dance to dig his claws in and shatter Yuuri’s heart. “I’ll give you one. Yakov let it slip that you won my hand in marriage through fencing. We’ll have a match twice daily, and whoever wins can do what they like to the loser.”

Victor taps his lips, that awful grin spreading across them. “You sure know how to make things exciting, don’t you?”

“So long as you hurt no one else, and leave me my time to take care of the Underworld’s business, I’ll be happy to keep you on your toes.” Yuuri leans into Victor’s space, glaring up at him. “Swear it.” Words have meaning and lasting effects on the gods—if Victor makes a promise, he shouldn’t be able to break it.

“Oh, I don’t blame your minions for falling under your little spell.” Victor smiles, matching the movement and coming close enough that Yuuri can feel his warm breath on his skin. “You’re the only one I want. Kill you, and the curse you hold over them all, that you forced on me, is broken. So yes, I swear it on my very life.”

Yuuri keeps being absolutely sure that his heart is shattered beyond any more pain, but then Victor says something even worse than before. There… there isn’t any salvaging this. He just has to convince Victor that all of this isn’t worth his time, or wait for him to get bored. It’s going to be awful, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever recover, but, well. If Yuuri’s used to anything, it’s compromising himself for a job that needs to get done, to protect others even when it costs him dearly.

He takes a deep breath, shoving the ragged pieces of his hopes and his dreams deep down, tearing ragged gashes as they go. “Well then.” He forces a smile as broken as Victor’s across his face. “Good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I bring up katsudon in every single one of my multi-chapter fics? I answer the question with a question: am I a foodie who can’t resist a steaming bowl of katsudon? (I’m still waiting to try a legit version without overcooked pork, since the flavors are amazing as-is. ;A;)
> 
> Hahahahaha hopefully you guys are ready for next chapter because _I'm not._
> 
> Anyway, shout-out to the lovely Blue who has their betaing work cut out for them every week! Also thank you so much to everyone who leaves kudos, and your comments give me life and keep me writing, thank you! <3 Feel free to screech at me/ask questions on my social medias if comments aren't your thing!
> 
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	6. VI

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Yuuri leans over Mila.

“Yuuri, I love you, but if you don’t stop hovering I’ll kill you myself.” Mila playfully shoves him away, flinching as she jostles the bruising around her neck.

“Sorry, sorry!” Yuuri jumps back, covering his mouth with his hands. Cosmos, he can’t do _anything_ right.

“It’s fine.” Mila collapses back down onto the chaise and lays her head in Sara’s lap, waving away his concerns. “The other guy has it far worse.”

Yurio snickers on the other side of the room. “Serves the bastard right.”

“How…” Yuuri swallows. “Has anyone seen any of them this morning?”

“Well, we haven’t.” Sara shrugs, running her fingers through Mila’s hair, both girls smiling slightly.

It loosens something in Yuuri’s chest to be able to see someone still happy despite the tension that creeps through the mansion's halls. He might suck at protecting them, he might be absolutely terrified of facing Victor this morning—he’s been… _gracious_ enough to let Yuuri help care for Mila last night, saving their first fencing match for this morning—but he made the right choice to make this whole dueling arrangement. He might still die, sure, but at least no one should get caught in the crossfire again.

Otherwise he might have to prove his threats yesterday to be serious, no matter the consequences with the Overworld. Yakov does owe him, doesn’t he?

“Minami was watching you dance this morning. Again. But he didn’t do anything.” Yurio examines his nails, as if he hadn’t just admitted to stalking after Yuuri and watching him dance, too.

Yuuri resists both the urge to roll his eyes, and once again establish that Minami is the least of their worries. “Yurio, I told you that you’re not my bodyguard. And I’m safe for now.”

“You believe him?” Mila meets Yuuri’s eyes, the question earnest in her eyes.

Mila had known Victor a little better than Yurio had since she was older when she left home, and she has more context to be angrier and more confused—obviously from the bruises that line her neck and muscles. Honestly, he’d spent most of the night restless, trying to answer this question himself, without the context that Mila both has and lacks. The Victor he’d known so little of before the peace treaty was so kind, unbelievably so, but Yuuri may understand a bit better why he was so selfless, now. He had been a god with so much potential… before Yuuri.

“I think,” Yuuri picks his words carefully, mulling over each one, “that he’ll protect those he came with. He knows they crossed a line, and he needs them. So for now, at least, he’ll play by my rules.”

“To your _face_ he will.” Yurio stands up straight, striding closer to the three others. “His method of choice is poison, I think backstabbing is just his nature.”

Yuuri laughs, despite himself. “Oh? Are you an expert on murder methods?”

“If I was going to murder someone, I wouldn’t throw them around like what he’s doing to you.” He glances at Yuuri, then holds up a hand. “Yeah, I know, you have some past or whatever. But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t just, you know, try to work it out or in general _not_ kill you and hang in the Overworld. It’s not like you ever want to go up there anyway.”

And Victor might be a lot of the reason why he avoids it up there in the first place. That, and people in general. God, mortal, whatever, they’re so rarely worth the anxiety. Honestly, Yurio _does_ have a point—why now? After so many years, why is revenge so important that Victor weaseled his way into marrying into the underworld, so he had every excuse to be close to and try to murder Yuuri? Has he been growing his resentment all this time? If it hadn’t been Yuuri that accepted the offer he would have had his work cut out for him, too—he may have somehow worked Christophe, Phichit, and possibly Minami against him, but turning one of the higher gods directly beneath Yuuri against him? He can’t imagine he’s earned a ton of loyalty for his work, but he doesn’t often get complaints. It would be nice to think a relative stranger wouldn’t turn his gods against him, but…

“Well, regardless, we’ve got your back, Yuuri.” Mila smiles at him, Sara nodding along with her. “Even though it _would_ be nice to know what happened all those years ago.”

“I already tried that.” Yurio sighs. “He’s still being stubborn.”

Yuuri glares at Yurio. “It isn’t—”

“Yeah, it isn’t your story to tell, even though you were there. Sure. Whatever.” Yurio waves his hand. “Be a stubborn, masochistic asshole.”

“See, even Yurio gets that communication helps,” Sara chirps, absolutely unhelpful.

Yuuri frowns at the lot of them. It’s so, _so_ tempting to just lay out the facts for them, see if something he missed might somehow help him possibly stop Victor, or get the others to stop… wanting him dead? It’s still such a strange thought that Phichit and Minami would ever be in on a plan that’s so _severe_. What did Victor tell them? It can’t be the truth, unless they want… No. It’s confusing, yes, and he was there on that fateful day, of course. But if he were Victor, he’d probably be lying about what happened, too.

Mila pats Sara’s arm, shaking her head slightly. “No need to beat a dead dog. _Speaking_ of, you finished your dance for this morning, right Yuuri? And you still have a little time until fencing?”

“Yeah.” Somehow, despite not sleeping much he’s already done. At this rate, he’s just going to keel over into one of the pools and finally get some damn sleep.

“You should spend some time with Makka!” Mila grins. “You could use something that, well, isn’t trying to kill you, and she could use a walk.”

It _has_ been far too long since he’s played fetch with Makka… But if Victor happened to see him with her…

“She’s in the kitchens, right?” Yurio crosses his arms, scowling. “Just take her into the gardens. They’re so overgrown that no one will see you guys. It’s not like we’ve seen the lazy bastards yet this morning, anyway.”

“I… yeah.” Yuuri smiles slightly, nodding. “I think I will, thanks.”

“Of course, Yuuri! Good luck.” Mila smiles, even though something dark lingered in her eyes.

Yuuri nods, leaving the room before he can dwell any more on it. He’ll need the luck, though. His parents were thorough in training Yuuri and Mari on all sorts of offensive and defensive arts, hoping they’d never have to use them, but knowing that sometimes their jobs came with reaping gods with very, very specific weaknesses. He could beat Mari, and even Minako sometimes, but Victor had been good enough to beat any other gods who wanted to become a hero of sorts for letting their brethren come home. Well, so long as he’s good enough to keep Victor interested.

The kitchens are busy, bodies constantly in motion, Yuuri practically having to dance through them to get to the corner by the ovens that he knows Makka likes to hide in. She perks up as he approaches, tail thumping faster and faster against the hard ground. He motions for her to follow him, catching Yuuko’s eye long enough to let her know he’s taking Makka, but not enough to give her a chance to corner him into talking—nothing that he’ll be able to avoid forever, but he’s tired of words after worrying so much about everything.

Yuuri emerges into the grounds on the side of the mansion, to the gardens that he spent his childhood in. Makka barks and runs ahead, chasing a few birds as they rise from the bushes, trailing long feathers of purple and gold. He can’t help but keep glancing around as they wander deeper and deeper into the foliage, wondering if maybe one of Victor’s crew might pop out of nowhere and see him like they somehow did with him and Minami yesterday. But at the same time, Phichit and Minami wouldn’t know about Makka, probably. Who knows about Christophe. In fact, maybe he should have someone look into him—he seems a rather pointless person to have dragged along onto a murder party.

He shakes his head, nothing to be done about that right now, though. They’ve reached the far side of the gardens, and though Makka might have had Yuuko’s triplets to keep her from going completely stir crazy the past couple of days, he should be doing better by her. He bends down, picking up a heavy-ish stick—no one’s been managing this part of the gardens as well as they could be, at Yuuri’s request—and teases Makka for a second before he tosses it as far as he can, over the deep green hedges that make up the half-finished labyrinth.

With another bark, Makka takes off, practically leaping into the entrance and disappearing among the varied leaves and the beginnings of buds that will never blossom.

It’s a shame, really. If they’d grown in the mortal world, they would have just kept growing normally, or withered. But here, they grew just enough to give them this terrible wildness, and then… froze. Yuuri used to love caring for them, trying to create life in his pathetic imitation of Victor’s work. He used to dream about someday showing Victor his garden, his creation, all in bloom and wrapping them in the scent of everything Yuuri loves. Everything he wished was his to love.

But then his ability to create life died, ripped out by his own hands, as he pulled out the roots of everything he cared for.

This place is still his, though. Makkachin seems to like it here, since it smells of him, and she loves to play fetch in the half-finished labyrinth, so proud when she conquers the puzzle. Yuuri didn’t really know Makka before he held her soul in his hands, but he’s relatively sure no mortal dog is _that_ smart. Sometimes she seems to be more aware of things going on than even him. It would make having her by his side so nice right now, but if Victor saw her—

“There are traces of your power here.”

Yuuri nearly jumps out of his skin, whirling around to find Victor leaning against a trellis, fingers running over a cluster of buds. It was a sort of wisteria that Yuuri had been trying to combine with lilacs, he remembers wanting desperately to know how they smelled.

Victor… Victor could draw them out to bloom if he wanted. No one else down here could—the power to grow and start life was faint in the gods of the Underworld, no one here could ever dream of finishing Yuuri’s work—not even Mila or Yurio could draw them out of the coma that the death of Yuuri’s abilities had set them in. He’d never asked them to, but he’d felt their residual energy here a few times, enough to know they had tried. These creations of his might as well be dead, he knows that. But with Victor here, they wouldn’t have to be.

But Victor wouldn’t. Would he?

“I can’t believe you just abandoned them like this, after all this work you put into them.” His sharp blue eyes turn onto Yuuri, face blank. “What, did you get too bored of these poor creatures?”

Yuuri bites his tongue, ears pricked for Makkachin. Shit, he needs to get Victor out of here. It’s not like his childhood dreams hadn’t already been burned to ashes, anyway. “Something like that. Being lord of the dead takes a lot of time.”

Victor smiles wryly. “I imagine it would. They do say that you’re the best.”

Yuuri stiffens. He knows he pales in comparison to his parents, he knows he could always, _always_ be doing better. And he doesn’t need Victor, of all people, pointing that out. “You don’t need to ridicule me to make your point.”

Victor snorts softly, his smile slowly falling as his brows furrow. “You actually believe that you aren’t known as the best, don’t you? Interesting…” He stands up straight, pushing away from the trellis and the clusters of sleeping buds. “Regardless, it’s cruel for you to just abandon them like this.”

Yuuri clutches his hands into fists. Victor doesn’t know. Yet he’s judging Yuuri for something that Victor threw away willingly, leaping out of his domain and his _life_ to abandon. So Yuuri’s left a garden? Victor’s left a whole world. Sure Victor’ll probably have to go back and dance the spring into existence, but that’s not all that he has up there. It can’t be. “Well, luckily I never asked for your opinion, or for your company. If you’re lost, the fencing court is in the back of the house, near the pools for the living.”

“Oh, but we still have so much time until then!” His smile is back, as cold and ruthless as ever. “I would really appreciate the opportunity to get to know my husband, you know.”

There’s a rustling behind them, a barely audible pitter pat of Makka’s large paws and _fuck,_ he’s out of time. “Fine. Let’s head back toward the house.”

He strides forward as fast as he can without running, passing by Victor—

Who reaches out and grabs his arm, grip so tight it hurts.

Yuuri lets out a little yelp, trying to yank away but failing. He glances up, catching sight of Victor’s slack face and wide eyes for one moment before the screeching begins behind him.

He glances around as Makka’s heads multiply to three, her body lengthening to ten times its normal size as her patches of scales grow so that her fur is barely visible, horns curving up from behind all six of her ears, smoke oozing out between absurdly long teeth.

Another unfortunate side-effect of Yuuri’s meddling is that Makkachin became some of cross between a hellhound and a regular dog, and whenever she thinks Yuuri might be in danger, she turns into a massive, three-headed, fire-breathing beast. That, and sometimes when she gets really relaxed and comfortable, she sometimes grows another head or something like that.

But right now Yuuri’s in pain, Makkachin knows it, and Victor’s the one causing it.

He may have a bit of a complicated relationship with Victor, but letting him get ripped apart by the creature that was once his precious dog is something he can’t bear to see.

He reaches deep into himself, into the power that lurks there, using it to push back Victor and draw the world around him into a darkness. It plucks away any other stimulation, drawing Makka’s attention back to Yuuri.

“Sit,” he commands, the earth trembling just slightly with the word.

Makka hesitates, shifting on her feet for a moment, then she compiles, letting her rear end fall.

“Down.”

This time it’s instantaneous. She drops the rest of the way to the ground, bowing her three heads.

He lets out a breath, letting go of his power and instead reaching out and wrapping his arms around Makka’s middle head, scratching around her ears. “It’s okay girl, it’s okay. Thank you.”

“Is that…”

Yuuri turns, shielding Makkachin as if that could hide the giant creature behind him.

Victor’s still on the ground where Yuuri had pushed him down, and his face is pale, paler than usual, his features gaunter than Yuuri’s ever seen them. “Is that Makkachin?”

Yuuri feels Makka’s head cock behind him, and he places a hand on her one forehead as the other heads turn toward Victor, beginning to shrink slightly. He swallows. “It… is.”

“Why?” The word is hollow and broken as it leaves his mouth. “Why is she a hydra? Why is she _here_?”

Yuuri tenses, and Makka’s heads stop their shrinking, instead whining at him. He can’t even imagine how confused she has to be—she’s been living at least five times longer than an average dog, her memories of Victor can’t be very clear. On the other hand, she’s spent most of that time with Yuuri, despite Victor being there for her first. “She’s… not a hydra.”

“Really?” Victor snaps, standing up. “Because she sure as hell looks like a three-headed dragon to me.”

“Then you aren’t paying enough attention to her,” Yuuri snaps.

Makkachin whines louder, shifting and nudging against Yuuri.

He turns his back to Victor kneeling down a little to meet Makka’s eyes. “It’s okay pup, it’s okay.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, whirling him around so that he’s standing and facing burning blue eyes.

“It is _not_ okay,” Victor hisses. “You stole my…” His voice breaks, eyes bright. “ _You stole my Makkachin_.”

Yuuri opens his mouth and… and can’t find the right words. He didn’t. He really didn’t. But would Victor listen? Would Yuuri, if the tables were turned?

Victor jolts away, Yuuri looking down to find Makka down to her normal side, nuzzling between them. She buffs softly, and that’s all it takes for Victor to collapse, letting go of Yuuri and burying his face in her fur while his shoulders shake.

For a moment Yuuri lets him have this. But no matter what else Victor believes about him, Yuuri won’t have him believe this. “The reason that I never brought her to you is that she can’t leave the Underworld. Her soul is tied here. I… I was going to… I tried—” Yuuri takes a deep breath. “I brought her back. But the price for her and for me was steeper than I’d anticipated.”

Victor laughs bitterly, voice muffled by the tears and her fur. "Oh? Really, you think you can compare?"

Compare to his suffering? “Probably not. But that’s why this garden is like this.” Yuuri turns away, toward the maze. “Between Makka and… Well, I can’t. Not anymore.” He closes his eyes. “Maybe it was selfish, but it wasn’t cheap.” More than Victor will ever know.

It’s quiet for a long moment, and Yuuri considers just walking away. But that would mean making Makka choose, and that isn’t fair to her. It’s why he wanted to avoid this damn mess in the first place.

“You really never change, do you?”

Yuuri turns back around, looking for the menace lacking in Victor’s voice hidden on his face. But he just looks… tired. Like the first time Victor remembers meeting him, and maybe a little like Yuuri’s first memory of Victor, too.

“I suppose that would make two of us, wouldn’t it?” Yuuri shrugs.

Victor’s quiet for a moment, watching his fingers card through Makka’s fur.

Gods, how can he take Makka from him now?

How can he fall asleep at night without Makka at the end of his bed?

“What’s going on here?”

Victor jumps as Yuuri turns a bit, catching sight of a figure making their way through the overgrown plants.

“Ah, Phichit.” Victor wipes away the tears, any hint of vulnerability in his gaze instantly gone. “I’ve told you about Makkachin, haven’t I?”

Phichit slows as he gets closer, then stops, eyes wide. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Yuuri?”

“That isn’t—!” Yuuri scrambles, trying to find any words that wouldn’t damn him even more. What this must look like, after whatever Victor told him… “Makka isn’t—”

“We’re going to fence.” Victor turns back to Yuuri, voice emotionless and cold. “Now. For Makkachin.”

Yuuri takes a second, trying to remember to _breathe_. This way he doesn’t have to choose who owns her, who spends time with her. Makka doesn’t have to choose. Victor doesn’t. And yet it scares him more than fencing for Victor to have a chance to take his life. A part of him wants to back out, but what alternative does he have to offer, especially with Phichit here? Even Yurio and Mila don’t know _how_ Makkachin is here and a bit different, just that she _is_.

“Fine.” Yuuri squares his shoulders. “We fight for Makka.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, while plotting: Okay so, Yuuri has Makka, but I don’t want Yuuri and Victor to fight over her ‘cause that’s sad.  
> Yuuri and Victor: *start fighting over Makka*  
> Me: _Frick._
> 
> Pls don’t kill me.
> 
> Shout-out to Blue for betaing! Thank you so, so, SO much to everyone who's left a kudo, and your guys' comments keep me writing. <3 ~~Hopefully you don't regret that now ahahahahaha...haha...ha~~ And as always, feel free to shriek elsewhere, too!
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v)


	7. VII

“Yuuri…”

“Don’t tell me it’s dumb.” He takes a deep breath. “I know it’s dumb.”

“Then why are you doing it?” Yuuko reaches out, placing a gentle hand on Yuuri’s arm, loose enough that he can pull away if he doesn’t want the touch.

“Can you think of a better option?” He turns his head to look at her, not breaking the contact—if anything, he’d kill to be wrapped up in a hug that would hide him from the world and this fencing match and the constant threat of death. But he doesn’t want to look or feel weak right now, not when there’s so much on the line. If he can act it, maybe he can be it.

She looks away, over to the grass where the triplets and Makka are playing, and bites her lip for a long moment before shaking her head.

“Thanks for looking after her while I do this,” Yuuri murmurs, giving her a small smile.

“It’s the least I can do. Especially after what happened at dinner last night. I’m so, so sorry, Yuuri.” She turns back to look at him, brown eyes wide and very wet.

“Oh, it wasn’t your fault Yuuko.” Yuuri reaches out to squeeze her shoulder, then leans in a little closer, bringing his mouth to her ear. “If it makes you feel any better, you can’t kill me with food. Well, unless you’re impossibly clever about it, but I don’t think Victor has a clue.”

She lets out her breath in a whoosh. “Oh, good. I was so worried that _I_ …”

“Not a chance.” He smiles down at her, wondering how on earth he’d even had the thought that she could be involved. They aren’t as close as they were as children, but Yuuri spent most of his years until he became a Reaper sneaking around the kitchens and running through the gardens with her and Takeshi. She was his first real friend, long before there were peace treaties or marriages or other nonsense.

“Are you just putting it off?” Phichit crosses his arms across the small courtyard, Victor standing next to him with two swords. Real swords, katana, not practice swords.

Yuuri holds back a sigh. Naturally. He’s found a way around the deal—even if he loses, he might still find a way to test Yuuri, stabbing for weaknesses.

He could… he could really die doing this.

He takes a deep breath, stepping away from Yuuko and her comforting touch, crossing to the center of the smooth marble beneath his feet. “I hadn’t realized you were done preparing and picking out the weapons, my apologies.”

Victor strides forward, tossing a sword at Yuuri—who barely manages to catch it, a slight flush crawling across his cheeks.

“Phichit is your witness?” Yuuri nods toward the frowning man, where he still stands. They weren’t originally going to have witnesses, mostly because it wasn’t for something so important before. Not that Yuuri’s life isn’t important, but it wasn’t something that was worth much debate on technicalities. It would be a long game of chess that Yuuri had to try and keep interesting. But for Makka, it’s different.

Victor nods toward Yuuko. “And she’s yours.”

“Yes.” Yuuri takes a few steps back, falling into his stance easily. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that it’s Mari standing there, or an overeager and younger Minami, or even Phichit. He might even want to fight Yuuri now, it’s not as if Yuuri doesn’t know what this looks like. They’ve been here for days and haven’t seen Makka. It’s as if Yuuri brought Makka back to toy with Victor—even though that’s so far from the truth, it’s almost ridiculous. “Yuuko is one of the gods who work in the kitchens. It’s her triplets that are with Makka right now.”

Victor’s lips twitch down when Yuuri says Makka’s name, and he almost wishes he could take it back, not provoke him any more than necessary. But Victor only nods, falling into his own stance.

Phichit stands up straighter, eyes flicking between the two. “En garde.”

Oh gods, they’re actually doing this. May the cosmos actually be favorable toward him for once, he doesn’t know what he’d do without Makka.

But what would _Victor_ do without her?

“Fence!” Phichit calls.

Yuuri’s thoughts momentarily freeze as Victor strikes, barely moving in time to parry, swinging around the blade to throw his aside, making an opening that forces Victor to leap back before Yuuri attacks.

But Yuuri doesn’t attack. He blocks and he feigns, but he can’t bring himself to attack. He wants Makka, he _loves_ Makka, but despite being Yuuri’s one-sided nemesis and a constant threat, he can’t help but think about how Victor must feel. He’s permanently trapped living in a strange land he’s never been to before, and he just discovered that his dog—who he thought was dead—was in fact alive in some strange form. Maybe it’s a trap of his own making, but Yuuri can’t help but wonder what it has to feel like to see Makka alive after _knowing_ she was dead, now that she’s his dog. It was the event that lead him to his complicated past with Yuuri, it has too much weight attached to it. Part of Yuuri wonders if they _should_ have just let Makka decide who to stay with.

But would he have been able to handle it if she didn’t walk away with Yuuri?

Could Victor have handled the opposite?

In fact, could Victor handle Makka at all?

Yuuri leaps forward, the sudden attack catching Victor off guard, and making him lose his footing for a moment. Victor hasn’t cared for Makka in decades. He’s extremely focused on his feud with Yuuri. In fact it seems like the focus of his entire being at the moment. And if Yuuri wins, he won’t hesitate to let Makka see Victor, he knows Victor would never hurt her. But would Victor offer him the same allowance? Would he ever see Makkachin again while she’s in his care?

He jabs forward again. Victor barely deflects his strike, the blade sinking smoothly through fabric and the side of Victor’s bicep instead of the flesh of his chest.

Yuuri tisks and pushes forward again, blades singing as they flash through the air and collide together. Victor’s strong, exceptionally so. But he’s slower than he should be, for his skill. He probably slept as much as Yuuri did last night. Maybe the shock of finding Makka alive has shaken him, knocked him off kilter.

Good.

Yuuri grits his teeth, reaching inside himself and gripping the burning thing in his chest that he’s been burying for too long.

He slashes forward. Screw Victor for tearing into his life like this, like Yuuri owes him _anything_. It’s been years. So many years. He’s already letting Victor try to kill him, trying to make a compromise before his impulsive decision starts another war, before Yuuri’s heart is shattered beyond any repair, but it’s not enough. He wants Yuuri’s dog, too. Yes, Makka was once Victor’s. Yes, Yuuri had intended to return her. But he couldn’t despite how he tried. He took care of her, he nursed her back to the lands of the living, _he_ ’s the one who fixed Victor’s damn messes in the first place.

His hands shake as his vision turns red, pressing Victor back again and again until Yuuri’s eyes are wide and the snarling thing in his chest is pleased. He swings, harder than any strike before, knocking Victor off balance and to the ground.

Yuuri doesn’t hesitate. His blade’s pressed against Victor’s throat in a second. “Checkmate,” he growls.

And it’s only then he notices tears staining Victor’s cheeks.

He leaps back, lowering his blade as the fire inside flickers and dies, washed away by some sort of twisted shame. Should he really feel this pity for someone trying to kill him?

Still, he holds out a hand, an offer to help Victor up.

Victor ignores it, glaring at Yuuri from his position on the ground. “Fine. You win. Congratulations.”

Yuuri hesitates, then nods “Makkachin stays with me, because that’s what she’s used to.” And he needs her, needs to make sure that no matter what happens, she’s safe and cared for. “But…”

“But?” Victor snarls.

“But if you want to spend time with her, of course you can.” Yuuri looks away as Victor’s eyes go wide. “I only hadn’t shown her to you before, because… I didn’t think it would be helpful. But if she wants to stay with you while I’m busy, I won’t be cruel.”

“Yes, they should call you the Lord of Kindness.” Victor tries to spit the words, but the exhaustion in them is palpable in the air.

“Thanks,” Yuuri drawls, narrowing his eyes. If Victor’s going to act like a petulant child, this is the last time he’ll ever see Yuuri’s kindness. “I’d offer for you to take her now, but you obviously need rest if you want any sort of chance at the evening match. Are we finished here?”

“Unless you’d like to just keel over and die right now, we’re done.” Victor finally sits up, glowering at Yuuri.

Yuuri doesn’t even respond. He doesn’t look at Yuuko when she calls his name, doesn’t say goodbye to the triplets as they lay a flower crown of clovers on Makka’s head. He walks deep into the halls of the mansion until no one can see him, and he leans his weight against a wall and slides down it, all strength leaving him as everything in his chest breaks free. Tears prick at his eyes, and he doesn’t fight them. No one will see. No one can do anything about it anyway, except for Yuuri and… he can’t. He just can’t. With a shaky breath, he lets out a small laugh. “If I thought that would make you happy, Victor, I would.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you know that’s not the answer, at least.”

“M-Minako!” Yuuri jumps to his feet, frantically wiping away the tears as he faces the person behind him. “What are you… how did you…?”

She’s quiet a moment, taking him in. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” She offers him her arm.

He takes it, trying not to lean on her too much.

She leads him through the maze of halls, but Yuuri doesn’t pay much attention to where they’re going, more trying to hold back the tears that still tighten his throat and blur his eyes. All he wanted was to curl up and cry, not get cornered by Minako for some inevitable lecture. He just… He’s trying his best, but there’s still no way out, and everything keeps getting _worse_.

Eventually their pace slows, the dark walls familiar as they walk into Minako’s room. In a weird way, it settles something in Yuuri. This is a place he’s never had to see with Victor, a place where he isn’t welcome because of the curse that keeps strangers out of her space, and never will be unless Minako chooses otherwise. He takes a deep breath, pulling away from her, heading toward the couch.

“You might have to kill him, you know.”

Yuuri pauses to look at her, trying to figure out if she’s being serious or joking with him. He can’t tell. “Minako.”

“Yuuri.” Now _that’s_ mocking, stealing his inflection and throwing it back at him. “If he kills you, it would start another war. Something you should, and could, prevent.”

“Killing him could start that same war.” Yuuri huffs, sitting down. “And neither of our deaths could be played off as accidents.”

“So you’ve figured out that much. Fallout would be inevitable then. I’d half-hoped you hadn’t thought that far, so we could just take him out and work from there, without you in danger.” She sits next to Yuuri, winking. “Oh, don’t worry, I wouldn’t advise that. Yet. Though his own actions make me wonder what he plans on doing after all this.”

“I don’t think he plans on doing anything.” Yuuri looks down at his hands, something cold and lonely settling into his chest. All of this, just to…

Minako hums. “You’re more observant than you think.”

Yuuri laughs, softly. “No, I’ve just been around him more than you have.”

She’s quiet again, thoughtful. “Do you hate him, now?”

He can’t help but think of the horrible parallel of this question to the last conversation they had: if he still admired Victor like he used to. In some ways, he does feel like he’s begun to hate Victor, but not in the way he maybe should. He hates how stubborn he is, he hates how Victor’s always poking his head into Yuuri’s business and digging deeper than anyone has a right to. He… He doesn’t hate Victor as a whole. He knows that he doesn’t quite deserve to die, even if he is the world’s ultimate fuck-up on some days, but he… He wants to see Victor… not like this. He wants to see him as happy as he used to pretend to be before he even knew Yuuri’s name, he wants Victor to be able to be the person Yuuri once saw him capable of being. Not for Yuuri’s sake, but for his own. But does _Victor_ want that?

Minako laughs. “Of course you, of all people, manage to still have some sort of crush on the guy trying to kill you.”

“Wh-what? I don’t!” Yuuri huffs. “How did you even—?”

“You wear everything on your face, kiddo.” She taps his nose.

He rolls his eyes and looks away. “I… I don’t think it’s a crush. I don’t think I could, with…”

She nods, a small smile on her face.

He takes a shaky breath. “I just… Something’s _wrong_ , you know? With Phichit, and Minami, and Victor. Maybe even Chris. They’re all angry and miserable and Minami keeps trying to tell me something about them all, but I don’t know _what_. I can’t even imagine what it would be like if I were in their place.”

“You sympathize far too much, Yuuri.”

He winces. He just knows too well what it’s like to fight your demons, how the battle never ends, even if you can make it more manageable. It’s no excuse for what they’re doing, but he can’t help but understand. “I know. I just… I wish it were different.”

She shakes her head. “Well then, what are you going to do about it?”

Yuuri blinks at her. “What?”

“You don’t have a plan? I assumed you must have had something in mind with the whole fencing matches fiasco you started.”

“I just… I wanted to control his actions as much as I could, I wanted to make sure everyone under my watch is safe.” He _wishes_ that he’d had the foresight to have had a plan, but no. He’d gotten emotional and gone with his instincts. It could have ended worse, he supposes. If they hadn’t had that outlet, what would have happened when Victor caught Yuuri in the gardens with Makkachin? At least Yuuri doesn’t have to hide her anymore. He really should be going back to take her off of Yuuko’s hands…

Minako hums. “That was smart of you, in the moment. Though, I wonder why he agreed to your sword fighting in the first place.”

Yuuri blinks. “What?”

“Won’t it just slow him down?” Minako shrugs. “It seems like he’s here for a singular reason, and there’s no logic behind him putting it off to play with you like this. If you ask me, he seems rather desperate.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows, and he clutches his hands together. “He… Maybe he wants to be around me to test for my weaknesses, or somewhere or something that I guard closer than the rest.”

“Well, that’s one theory.” She leans forward a bit. “You’ve been careful _not_ to do that, correct?”

Yuuri snorts softly. “You know my mom, and you know for a fact that she taught me better than that. Anyone could’ve guessed by now if I was that obvious.”

She grins, something sharp. “Hiroko was one of the shrewdest Deaths I had the pleasure of serving. Speaking of your parents—”

“No, they don’t need to know. We don’t need to worry them.” Yuuri doesn’t need to disappoint them, take them away from the hard-earned vacation they more than deserved. He’s handling it. Mostly.

“I figured you’d say that.” She sighs, standing up. “Well, you and I both know how delicate this whole situation is, and I’m proud of how you’ve been handling it.”

Yuuri shrinks down at the words, wishing he could unhear them. He’s barely _handling_ anything.

Minako grips his shoulder. “I’m being serious Yuuri. Not everyone could deal with having someone like Victor in their own house, much less with your relationship with him, with such grace.”

Yuuri barely bites back his scoff, conceding that it _isn’t_ easy. He might be handling it horribly, but… Well, who wouldn’t?

“Still, I want you to think about your plan. No, I won’t be giving you some easy, magic out, don’t look at me like that.” Minako narrows her eyes. “You already shot down my best idea, I don’t think you’d like the other options.”

Yuuri feels the warmth leave his body as his mind unhelpfully brings up the exact way he’d have to murder Victor, the way his face would go pale, sharp eyes losing their life as he—

He shakes his head. No, no, _no_. Absolutely not, only as a last resort.

“Exactly.” She pats the shoulder she’d been holding. “You’re going to have to find your way out of this—and sitting on it isn’t an option. You won’t like how things turn out if you do.”

“You don’t _know_ that,” Yuuri grumbles, knowing full well he sounds and looks like a child.

Minako just laughs and pulls him to his feet, leading him back to the door.

She doesn’t _need_ to say anything. She wouldn’t have stayed the family’s advisor for generations without being so eerily accurate.

So he doesn’t resist as she shuffles him out of her sanctuary, saying goodbye and letting him wander the halls again with a much smaller chance of breaking down crying where anyone can wander up and catch him off guard. After all, he has a plan, now.

Or, well, his plan is to come up with a plan.

That he can’t even begin to plot.

With a sigh, he runs his hand through his hair and starts back toward the fencing yard. He should be able to find where the triplets took Makkachin from there and free her from their clutches. Hopefully they haven’t tried to braid her hair again. Or paint her nails. Or feed her things that dogs most _definitely_ shouldn’t eat. Even if she isn’t entirely a dog, and is hardly mortal anymore, the poor thing can still have an upset stomach.

Letting out a small chuckle, he walks out into the courtyard.

And freezes.

Makkachin’s still out here, but it’s not the triplets with her. Victor leans over the large almost-poodle, moving delicate fingers through her fur as if he’s afraid she’ll break, despite the way she wiggles beneath his touch, tongue lolling out. His fringe falls in front of his eyes, but his mouth moves in soft whispers and the corners are turned… up?

Yuuri’s heart beats hard and loud, a shiver running across his skin. He thought he’d destroyed that particular smile, the one that wasn’t designed to be sharp enough to stab through hearts and minds. But it’s still there.

He’d lied to Minako, even if he didn’t believe it at the time. She’d known, though. Even as a last resort, he couldn’t kill Victor Nikiforov. No matter what happened to him, Victor had shaped his life more than he’d ever let him know. All he wants is for Victor not to regret their past. He… he wants…

Makkachin’s head quirks, turning toward Yuuri before she’s scrambling up and toward him. Only much, much experience has Yuuri reaching out to grab her paws before she can knock him over, and he can’t help but laugh a little at her enthusiasm.

It dies on his lips as he looks up, though.

Victor is all ice and edges again, on his feet and looking toward Yuuri. Not glaring, though. Yuuri knows better than to count that small relief as anything, but he still wishes it was.

For a moment they keep that eye contact, and Yuuri nearly offers for Victor to take Makka for a little while longer, until lunch at least, but Victor just… nods and walks away, no insult, no threats. Just gone.

Yuuri glances down at Makka, still worked up from cuddling with her previous owner that she must remember on some level. He lets go of her paws, falling to his knees and nuzzling into her soft fur.

“We’ll come up with a plan, Makka,” he murmurs. “We’ll find a way to save us both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I took fencing lessons when I was like ten, I’ll remember enough to write a few fencing scenes, right? RIGHT???  
> And that’s how I ended up spending hours researching instead of writing. I feel like I learned nothing, but idk, they fling the stabby sticks at each other until one wins. It works. Possibly.
> 
> Anyhow, it was Wild to see so many peeps predicted that Victor would win/Yuuri would let Victor win. Would you let your doggo you’ve had for 50+ years be handed over to a homicidal maniac??? I know Yuuri’s self-deprecating and can’t stop caring for a side of Victor that (he thinks) no longer exists, but _pls_
> 
> Shout out to Blue for dealing with the ridiculous amount of repetitive words and my weird commas in this chapter! And thank YOU for continuing to read, despite the last chapter—I know some people peaced out after that. XD Every kudo means to world, and every comment makes me flail and fuels the next chapter, thank you guys!!! <3
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v)


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have a tad bit of minor violence this chapter, fair warning.

Knowing exactly what he needs a plan for—specifically, stopping Victor’s murderous spree, and finding out what the hell is up with Phichit, Minami, and possibly Christophe along with what they believe about Yuuri—should make the planning easier.

If anything, it makes things harder.

At least it gives him an excuse as to why he’s so distracted that he loses the fencing match that evening, Victor’s grin is sharper than ever as he takes his time to decide on what he’d like to try. He talks through his thoughts out loud and Yuuri barely resists shivering, making a quiet vow to never, ever let himself get distracted again because this promises to be a long and very, very painful process.

Though Victor never mentions Yuuri’s mortal weakness in his plans. That’s the only positive thought that Yuuri has to cling to as Victor decides to slice off his right pinky.

“A shame,” is all Victor says as he smears the blood of his blade off on his shirt and walks away, leaving Yuuri clutching his stump and biting back a scream.

The pain of the severed appendage is bad enough, but then there’s the sting and itch and _burn_ of his powers rushing along the healing process, so slow without any affinity for life itself left in him. Someone finds him eventually, getting him to a healer. He can’t remember much of it, just that they had his pinky regrown in minutes rather than a couple of hours. He makes sure to have someone with an affinity for healing nearby every match from then on.

It falls into a bit of a pattern after that. They’ll have their fencing matches, and despite Yuuri trying to stay as concentrated as possible, he loses as often as he wins. Sometimes it feels as if he digs too deep in his head, and he can’t climb out of it enough to stay sharp. Sometimes it’s as if Victor is sluggish, unmotivated, and the match is an easy win. But Victor doesn’t seem to be getting bored at least, even two weeks into showing up every day to fence, his minions keeping their promise.

Victor mostly stays silent at first, but he talks occasionally now, sometimes not even biting words—even if it’s just about how terrible the weather is, or that the pools seem full today. Yuuri’s pretty sure it has to do with Makka. Every match she trots over to Victor, and at first he’d only give her a tentative pat, as if worried he might break her. Now he kneels down and ruffles her ears, sometimes murmuring things into her ears, almost but not quite smiling when she boofs in return.

But he never, ever agrees to take Makka with him throughout the day, stating that Yuuri won her fair and square—even if that was never the point, in fact the opposite of it. But Yuuri can’t help but ask. Not as a part of some intimate plan to take Victor down, but because it’s his _dog_. Well, she belongs to both of them now through a sick twist of fate, and he couldn’t imagine being without her. The reality that he could have lost Makkachin, that maybe Victor could have kept her from him for as long as he’s down there, makes it so that Yuuri… kind of understands Victor from way back then.

“Are you sure?” Yuuri still tentatively pushes, putting away his blade—Victor had chosen broadswords today, liking to switch it up for whatever reason. Yuuri won today, which already has Victor in a prickly sort of mood. He’s pretty sure Victor hates how Yuuri refuses to do anything with his wins, brushing it off by saying he’ll save them for a later favor. A small, ridiculous part of him wonders if he could save up enough wins to demand Victor stop with the murder attempts. But that doesn’t seem to be all of what set Victor off this time. The longer that Victor’s in the Underworld, the more _off_ he is. Yuuri can’t exactly explain it, it’s just an unsettling in his gut, under his skin as he watches the shadows beneath Victor’s eyes grow, how his movements in their fencing matches become more frantic, almost frenzied.

“The answer isn’t changing.” Victor glowers at him, eyes aflame from his loss. And… maybe he’s imagining it, but his hand shakes a bit as it grips his sword.

“All right, but…” Oh he _knows_ this is a mistake, but he has to ask. “Are you okay?”

For a second Victor just stares, mouth open slightly like he can’t believe Yuuri’s words.

Gods, _Yuuri_ can’t believe his words, this is a mistake, a huge mistake. If he manages to screw up their agreement, he’s back to square one and every single hint of a plan he can think of is out the door and—

Victor laughs, cold and yet with a sharp humor. “Why the hell would you care?”

Yuuri blinks. That isn’t… “I’ve always cared.” He stands up straight, fixing his shirt where he knows it hangs off his shoulder. How could that, of all things be his question? After everything? “You know that.”

Victor bares his teeth, clenching them tight. “ _Caring_ would have been the opposite of what you did.”

Yuuri sucks in a quick breath, glancing toward Makka. “I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

For a long moment, Victor’s quiet. Yuuri considers how on earth to make his escape without seeming rude, but Victor finds his words before he finds his way out of this. “Why… why the hell do you act like you don’t hate me? After everything?”

Yuuri stares at him, Victor’s face more guarded than it is with Makka, but eyes wider than he’s seen in the entirety of their “marriage.” Is this what Victor expects, for people who know the parts of him that Yuuri does to loathe him? It would explain why the gods he brought with him have what seems to know an interesting version of what happened between the two of them. Has he… has he talked to _anyone_ about what happened then? Yuuri had his parents, and Minako always knows more than she should, and even though they may not have the full story, Yurio, Mila, and even Mari have supported him without any lies. He doesn’t feel worthy of it, never has, but now more than ever Yuuri realizes all of the support that he’s had his whole life.

Would he have ended up like Victor, without them all?

Yuuri takes a step forward. “Did you really expect me to hate you, when you came here?”

Victor frowns. It’s something without an edge, somehow fragile. “That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, it is.” Yuuri lifts his chin, daring Victor to contradict it.

For once, he doesn’t rise to the challenge. He looks off, somewhere beyond Yuuri’s shoulder, blank expression impossible for Yuuri to make heads or tails of. Almost as if he’s lost.

Well then, let him stay that way. Yuuri turns, before he can say or do anything he’ll really regret, calling for Makka. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have duties to attend to.” And he strides away.

Footsteps don’t follow.

Yuuri lets out his breath, slumping as he gets to his rooms and changes into his robes as quickly as possible, heading out again. He doesn’t want to run into Victor or any of his minions, he just wants peace and—

“Katsudon.”

Yuuri sighs, and keeps walking. Well, he wasn’t exactly avoiding his own people—though _technically_ Yurio would be responsible to report to Victor over him. “Yes, Yurio?”

Yurio’s eyes flick across Yuuri’s form. “Nice to see you’re not missing a limb today.”

Yuuri holds back a shiver. “He hasn’t taken one of my limbs.”

“Yet. It’s not like a finger isn’t close.” Yurio glares at him, almost like he knows Yuuri was thinking the same thing. “And did I seriously hear you offer Makkachin to him, even though you won her fair and square?”

“It’s not like that.” Yuuri glares at him. “He’d just borrow her, like dog-sitting.”

“It _is_ like that. She’s your dog, and I get she used to be his, but that’s not anymore.” Yurio lets out a small huff as they walk back outside. “You can’t help yourself, can you? You’d help anybody, even if they stabbed you in the back the next minute.”

“No, I—” Well… he supposes he’s already proven Yurio right, hasn’t he? So Yuuri shrugs, letting the true answer hang in the air between them.

“Fuck you,” Yurio mutters.

Yuuri grins, something warm stirring in his chest. “Love you too, Yurio.”

Yurio grumbles as they make their way across the lawn, Yuuri pointedly ignoring the insults that he throws at everyone and their mother. It’s a sleepy sort of evening, the suns halfway set and giving the world a red hue, the deep shadows of the old trees almost purple. The leaves are beginning to turn and fall into the pools ever-still pools, a slight chill lingering in the air though it won’t ever get too cold here. If it had been any other time, Yuuri would have thought of it as beautiful, but now he has to wonder who’s in the trees, because there’s always someone. Is it Phichit, here to glower at him silently again? Chris, to taunt him after he’s done dancing, exhausted from his duties, fencing, and having trouble sleeping at night? Victor, a vague form in the shadows that Yuuri can only barely see? Oddly, Yuuri finds him the most terrifying of the bunch, and not because he’s attempting to kill him on a regular basis. He looks like _he_ could be one of the dead, so quiet and so still. He has to wonder what they’re looking for while he dances. It’s just a ritual to move the dead from this realm to the next. The only one who seems to get that is—

Minami.

He’s the worst at hiding out of the bunch, and today is no exception. His bright hair peeks out from behind a tree trunk, eyes wide as they flicker between Yurio and Yuuri.

“That asshole again,” Yurio spits. “Why the fuck do you let them get away with this shit? It’s creepy and dumb.”

“Well, we know it’s dumb, but _they_ don’t.” Yuuri turns from Minami’s globe eyes to Yurio’s glare. “Let them waste their time watching me dance. It _is_ when I’m most vulnerable, in a way, and they’re probably looking for a weakness.”

Yurio’s eyes flick back to Yuuri. “And will they find it, watching you dance?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “There’s no possible way that they would. The only way they could ever know is to drag the answer out of either me or my mother, and you’ve met her.”

“Hah.” Yurio grins, a wicked thing. “She’d kill them.”

Would she? Yuuri knows only her as Mom, a nurturing and kind soul. But she was also Death in her time too, he supposes. He knows she’s had to execute other gods, especially during the war, when everything was chaos. “If she thought they could actually kill me, yeah, probably.”

“Still,” Yurio grumbles. “I wish there was something we could do.”

Yuuri bites his tongue on saying that he wants the same thing, knowing that Yurio would leap at the chance to settle things _his_ way. He needs to take more control, but how? They’re such a united front against him. He used to know Phichit and Minami, but…

But Minami still stares at him with wide eyes, and has tried to warn him many, many times. Before it even came to this point, Minami tried to prevent, or at least talk to Yuuri about bringing Victor down to the Underworld at all. Now, Minami probably doesn’t know as much as the rest of them, and they could be monitoring him somehow, what with having shown that he’s the weakest link over and over again. He hasn’t attempted to talk to Yuuri about it in a while, but other than when he observes Yuuri dancing, Yuuri hasn’t exactly seen the young god on his own. But he’s alone now. Yuuri can talk to him, lure Minami back under his wing.

It’s a dirty feeling, a grit in Yuuri’s gut, using someone’s friend against them. But how much of a friend is Minami, really, when Victor must have not only withheld the truth, but actively lied to Minami? Is it really so terrible to resort to the same tactics being used against him?

“Hey, Minami!” Yuuri calls out, waving his hand as casually as he can.

“What the fuck?” Yurio snaps. “Didn’t you just tell me we were going to let them think they were doing something productive?”

“We are.” Yuuri smiles as Minami looks all around himself, like there’s another Minami hiding in the bushes outside of his house. Taking pity on the boy, Yuuri meets his eyes and beckons him forward with his hands. “Minami just isn’t going to watch from the shadows anymore.”

Yurio gapes for a moment. “What? Hell no!”

Yuuri turns to face him head-on, using his extra inches to glare down at the shorter god. “Yes. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

Well, maybe he’s not one to judge lying to friends.

Yurio’s face goes red, his hands curling into fists, but no other words come out of his mouth as Minami shuffles closer.

“Um, what is it, Yuuri? Sir? Lord?” Minami winces as his confusion seems to grow.

“Just Yuuri, like it was before.” Yuuri smiles even as his insides twist. Nothing will ever be like it was before.

Slowly, Minami nods.

“Good. Now, you don’t have to hide in the bushes, you know.” He keeps his smile plastered on his face, despite it itching to twitch down. “I know you guys are watching me every time _despite_ me not liking to be watched.”

“Ah.” Minami winces. “I tried to tell them that, I really did! They just thought that, you know, there must be a reason. And I-I think I know the reason, and it’s not your death, but I didn’t tell them, I wouldn’t tell them that.”

Yuuri’s mouth dries. Maybe he is as bad as they say, wanting to use Minami like this, when already he seems in so torn. “Thank you. You… You really don’t want to be working with them, do you?”

Minami opens his mouth, eyes so wide and earnest as he tries to find the right words.

Maybe he _does_ hate Yuuri, maybe whatever Victor’s saying about him rings too close to the truth. Maybe it is the truth, somehow.

But eventually, Minami just shakes his head. “I don’t… I don’t want you dead.”

Yuuri sucks in a quick breath, nodding. Okay. He can work with this.

“It’s just… Victor, he’s…” Minami starts to play with the hem of his shirt. “I know he’s trying to kill you, so I know I need to just pick a side, but I don’t want to hurt him either, he’s… I know it’s hard with what he’s doing, but he’s a good guy, he’s just… I… I can’t…”

It’s just that something’s wrong. And Minami can’t or won’t stay _what_. At least Yuuri feels slightly more justified in keeping his own secret. “I’m not trying to hurt Victor.”

For a moment, it’s quiet, just the breathing of the three gods, Yurio moving to cross his arm, but he sticks to what Yuuri said and doesn’t question him.

“You… aren’t?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “No. And I won’t, unless the choice is between hurting him and a war.” Which, he supposes, it technically is now. But Victor hasn’t been close in his guessing, and they’re at a stalemate of sorts. “I don’t want to.”

“But he said…” And Minami rails off again.

Yuuri wants to grab him, shake the answer out, finally figure out whatever the hell’s been going on. But that isn’t how he works. “I’d be willing to take you back on as an apprentice, you know.” If you switched sides.

The words go unsaid, but he can tell they’re still heard by the way Minami’s brow furrows even as his mouth pops open.

If Yuuri could describe how Minami was before the peace treaty, he’d say he was like a puppy. He’s never had a puppy, really, only Makkachin who was an elderly dog when she passed anyway. But the way that Minami would trail after him, pick up his mannerisms, try to bend to Yuuri’s every whim even when he just wanted to be left alone, well. It’s all he can think of. Minami might not be cut out to be Death, depending on how his powers had presented in the Overworld—Yuuri himself still has no idea what Minami can do, what god he is—but he was studious, and Yuuri may be the last to admit it, but he could really use the help of an apprentice with everything going on.

“I-I want to, but I…” Minami squeezes his eyes shut, hands curling into fists.

Yuuri sighs, his shoulders dropping just a tad. “But you can’t. Or won’t?”

“Can’t,” Minami murmurs. “If I try to say…”

“Ah.” Are they listening in somehow? That would explain why they were so quick to react, last time. It’s amazing that no one’s tried anything so far. “They’ll know if you say anything, won’t they?”

Minami nods, fast and almost eager. “Exactly.”

“Hmm.” Well, he tried. He probably shouldn’t feel as relieved as he does, but he can’t help but not want to use someone who had trusted him so completely in the past—though perhaps he could still use his help. Far be it from Yuuri to want to admit how weak he is, but everyone already knows at this point, anyway. Cosmos help him. “Still, if you’d like to dance the dead on with me, I’d love to have you.”

It’s as if Minami re-inflates, a grin spreading across his face the likes of which Yuuri hasn’t seen since he had returned to the Underworld. “Really?”

Yuuri nods, a small smile spreading across his face.

“What the fuck?” Yurio takes a step closer to Yuuri, practically snarling. “You’re seriously going to take _him_ on?”

“You heard what I said.” Yuuri straightens his shoulders.

“He’s the enemy! He literally just admitted it!”

“And he said he’d rather not be the enemy, given the choice.” Yuuri narrows his eyes.

“You asshole.” Yurio balls his hands into fists. “You won’t take on anyone else in the entire Underworld, but you’ll take on this loser? Not even m—” He snaps his mouth shut.

Yuuri freezes, head to toe. Had he really never noticed? But why would he, when he always assumed that Yurio would be going home someday? “Yurio, do you want to learn how to dance for the dead?”

“Of course I fucking don’t.” He crosses his arms, looking away. But that doesn’t hide the dusting of pink spreading across his cheeks.

Yuuri sighs, not holding it back for once. Gods, how has he never noticed? Yurio had used to ask to watch in the beginning, but… He shakes it off. “Minami, would you join me?”

Minami fiddles with his fingers. “I-I’m really out of practice. But please?”

Yuuri nods. “Of course. Being rusty won’t hurt anything, so long as you know how, and don’t fall into the pools.”

He beams.

“And Yurio?” Yuuri tilts his head toward him.

He scowls. “What?”

“You can watch if you want.”

He scowls at Yuuri, eyes flicking across his face as he thinks. Maybe it would be too close to admitting he wants to dance for the dead—which is such an odd thought for Yuuri. His powers very well might be suited for it, even if he can’t be Death either, like Minami, but he could do it. Actually, it might be perfect from what Yuuri knows of him and how he’s seen him attempt to manage his power. Yurio mentioned once, a long time ago, having danced spring in with Victor, but found it too loud and vibrant. It was what Yuuri loved about it, the one time he saw it, but Death does have its own magic, and if he’s familiar with dance…

“Fine,” Yurio snaps, starting toward the pools. “I’ll keep an eye on the asshole to make sure that he doesn’t try anything.”

Minami gapes. “But I—!”

Yuuri chuckles, wrapping an arm around Minami’s shoulders and tugging him forward. “Anger is how he shows affection, don’t worry about it.”

“Who the fuck shows affection like that?” Yurio grumbles.

“Who indeed?” Yuuri mutters just quiet enough that hopefully only Minami hears it.

A grin cracks across Minami’s face, his eyes brighter than they’ve been since he saw him at the peace treaty celebration.

Good. Yuuri walks with both of them onto the paths of the pools, a flutter of anxiety rising in his chest. It’s been so many years since he’s had another dancer, let alone someone he’s allowed watch. They’ll be able to see his every movement and stumble, to judge his outline as the dead travel the pools around him.

But for these two, he’ll do it.

No matter what Victor might do or say about Minami choosing this road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, no matter what Yuuri? ;)
> 
> Hope ya'll have enjoyed the calm before the storm.
> 
> Thanks to Blue for betaing! And thank YOU for reading!!! Everyone's comments keep me typing away at this angstfest, and I appreciate every last one, thank you so much. <3 <3 <3
> 
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	9. IX

Something’s wrong with Victor the next morning—well, more than usual, at least.

His movements aren’t exactly sluggish, he still holds his own as Yuuri jabs and slashes and dances around him, but that’s exactly it; he’s dancing around Victor when normally Victor’s just as lithe as him, keeping each other on their toes.

Yuuri could win easily. There are so many openings, but… it doesn’t feel fair. Not that it should matter, really, not when his life is on the line—but at least he can take the opportunity to watch, and try to figure out what’s going on. Yuuri side-steps a lunge, eyes crawling up Victor’s body.

Victor pulls back, movement a little jerky, lacking his usual strength. Maybe he didn’t sleep well last night? No, he doesn’t really seem groggy. There are those bags beneath his eyes though, barely concealed, and his face looks… haggard? Run down and empty and—

Yuuri blinks, and Victor looks normal again, barely blocking as he tries to process whatever it was he just saw. Is Victor hiding himself under an illusion? And how is Yuuri seeing beneath it, then? He could pull it off of Victor if he wanted to, probably. But he isn’t trying, he hasn’t even noticed.

He sighs. Minako’s going to have his head when he tells her about this.

Victor swings in an arc, too wide to move away from. Yuuri slices his own blade up, catching Victor’s as their blades sing, reverberation shaking up Yuuri’s bones.

For a moment, Victor meets Yuuri’s eyes, grimace growing every second, as if Yuuri’s found a new way to insult him with his face today. Which, well, Yuuri had shown up a bit late for this match. Is that what this is all about? Maybe he should apologize—

He almost snorts. Yes, he should just apologize for being late to his own daily death attempt.

“You took Minami,” Victor growls as he shoves Yuuri away, leaning far too much into the motion.

Yuuri doesn’t take advantage of it, something cold slithering through him instead. So that’s it. This is the first time he’s talked to Yuuri this morning, and what an interesting topic to start with. Instead, he steps back to circle Victor. “I haven’t taken anybody. He’s an Underworld god, he has every right to step back into the life he left behind.”

“No.” Victor slices at Yuuri again, faster than any other movement he’s made this morning, the sound of metal on metal echoing loud enough through the courtyard to draw Makka’s attention to them. “Not after you sold him off like a sack of meat to ensure peace.”

Victor’s blade nicks Yuuri’s cheek, but he can’t bring himself to feel the sting. Yuuri started the talks of peace with his actions, by trying to heal wounds that weren’t his to tend to. But the agreement itself? He had next to no say in it. He couldn’t—he was a nobody, and he was so ill he could barely move. His parents were Death still, if not for much longer, and Yakov handled things on the other end. Though… Yuuri could have tried harder. Phichit sobbed at having to leave his siblings and his parents for so long in exchange for a home that was like a prison. Minami tried to put on a brave face, but he was so young, so full of potential and dammit all, Yuuri was the golden child back then. He _should_ have said something. Tried something. Not that he can even think of an alternative now, with many more years behind him, but maybe they would have found something. But, no. He’d still been licking his own damn wounds from his confrontation with Victor, he could barely even think straight, and he let his friends down.

If this is why they hate him, then finally their actions make a little more sense. No wonder they found a new friend in Victor, who loathes Yuuri to his core.

Yuuri slices at Victor, following with small, quick movements to get Victor away, give himself room to breathe. “They were never sacks of meat, they are—they _were_ my friends.”

“Funny.” Victor tilts his head, whipping away Yuuri’s sword, nearly disarming him. “I never treated my friends like pawns.”

Yuuri lets out a sharp laugh as he steps back. “Oh really? Using them to do your spying to help with your assassination attempts doesn’t count on using them as pawns?”

“I ask them to do that.” Victor leaps forward, so close, too close, Yuuri barely catches his blade. “It’s their choice.”

“Choice?” Yuuri pushes forward, his blade scraping against the other. “Because I know them, maybe even better than you do, and they wouldn’t murder me for what happened in the past. If they were _actually_ your friends, they would thank me.”

Victor yanks away, panting slightly as a fire grows in his eyes. “So you’d like to think. Tell me, has Minami told you about what his power is? Does he actually trust you?”

Yuuri’s eyes narrow as he adjusts his grip on the hilt. He hasn’t. He should, working beneath Yuuri, but there’s a fine line to be tread between him and Minami right now, and he’s not going to push it. Minami’s risked enough trying to tell Yuuri about whatever Victor’s up to multiple times, and no one other than Victor ever attempts to take his life. He wouldn’t say he trusts Minami yet, but he knows that he might be able to do so again someday.

The exact opposite of Victor. He should have never tried to trust him or help him in the first place.

Victor grins, the sharp expression growing the longer that Yuuri stays silent. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Oh?” Yuuri grimaces, standing straighter. “And you’re playing with my friends, aren’t you?” Victor’s the one playing with fire here, when there’s _obviously_ something wrong with him. He could destroy Victor, right here right now. Of course Yuuri won’t kill him, he’d have a hard time doing that right here, anyway. But he doesn’t have to be kind. He doesn’t have to play fair.

Yuuri leaps forward, striking and slashing so fast that it’s all that Victor can do to block, pushing him back. “Don’t you pretend to be his friend when you obviously control his movements, when you don’t let him have freedom. I’ve made bad choices, many of them, but at least my mistakes are honest. I don’t lie and manipulate and _cheat_. Those that stand with me may not know everything, but they accept my flaws and choose to stay by my side in spite of them.” In a ringing of steel on steel, he whips Victor’s sword out from his hand, moving the tip of the blade to his throat. “Can you say the same?”

Victor sucks in a deep breath, taking a step backward—and his foot catches on a stone, setting him off balance and making him land on the ground. Hard.

Yuuri winces, sucking in a breath. Maybe that was a bit far. Victor had started it, yes, but Yuuri escalated it. He isn’t sure entirely what’s going on here, and he can’t afford to make assumptions. Especially when lashing out might break Victor away from the tentative control Yuuri has over his actions—at least where the attempts on his life are concerned.“Are you all r—?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Victor hisses as he gets to his knees and lets his head hang, tone making his words absolutely moot. “You win.”

It doesn’t feel like a win, though. Not when the blood running beneath Yuuri’s skin feels too chill, the ringing in his head insisting that he’s made a mistake.

It’s obvious Victor isn’t fine.

But of course he wouldn’t tell Yuuri if he wasn’t. He wouldn’t tell anyone, probably. Yuuri can’t help but wonder if Phichit, or Minami, or even Christophe would know about whatever’s going on here. There’s an itch in the back of Yuuri’s throat, a curiosity to just ask what exactly they know of the past, and how much Victor remembers of it. He managed to forget their first meeting even while he was in a much less… compromised state than the second one. What remains in his memory of the incident that happened more than half a century ago? He opens his mouth, but Victor speaks first.

“Why do gods have flaws?” Victor mutters it so quietly from where he kneels that Yuuri can’t help but wonder if he thought Yuuri wouldn’t hear, or if he didn’t mean to let the words escape in the first place.

“To keep us never much better than mortals.” The words slip out of Yuuri’s mouth recited, without much thought. He’s asked the question so many times, he can practically hear the tired tone of Minako or his parent’s voices as they answer in the same, practiced words. It’s not much of a comfort to know that they have a greater purpose that mortal creatures only long for. It’s certainly not satisfying. Why gods even exist when the cosmos at large has so much control over everything in existence is… a frustrating question, to say the least. What sort of life would he have led as a mortal, with no responsibility for the living or the dead?

Victor’s hands clench into fists where they rest on his thighs, the fringe of his bangs blocking his face from view. “But _why_?”

A chill runs down Yuuri’s spine. There really is something wrong here, and he doesn’t know _what_. “You really want to talk about philosophy?” Yuuri tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “Or is it theology?”

Victor lets out a breath, giving a short laugh. “Does it matter?”

It obviously does to him, but Yuuri doesn’t point that out.

There’s gentle tapping of claws on stone as Makkachin decides it’s time for Yuuri and Victor to stop talking, shoving herself in Victor’s face.

He doesn’t even look up before burying his face in her fur, fingers delicately running through her curls. And… his hands are shaking.

“I’ve decided what I’m doing with my win today.” Yuuri pauses for Victor to snark at him, tell him it’s about time that he does something with it, but it doesn’t come. Which only cements Yuuri’s decision. “Makkachin is going to stay with you for the rest of the day.”

 _That_ makes Victor look up, and Yuuri pointedly ignores the red rims to Victor’s eyes. “What?”

“You heard me.”

For a long moment, Victor just stares at Yuuri, face slack and haggard. He wants to suggest skipping their fencing later in the day, but he knows he’s already pushing it with this request. Whatever line Victor’s drawn in the sand to not have Makka with him has been important for whatever reason, but Victor obviously needs the comfort. And the fact that his reaction isn’t to refuse immediately is telling.

Yuuri fights the shivers threatening to run through him yet again. Everything screams _wrong_. Not in a way that he should fear for Makka’s safety—he doubts that she could die unless he did, and she’ll probably outlast him when he does. Not to mention she can’t leave the Underworld.

It’s just… Something’s broken. More so than before.

“Oy, Katsudon!”

Yuuri whirls around, finding not one, but two heads of blonde hair walking across the courtyard.

Minami picks up his pace a bit, almost skipping. “You promised that you were going to break down the new parts of your dance after the match. And you’re, um, done. Right?”

A smile flits across Yuuri’s face as Minami’s face lights up. Yurio scowls and looks away, tapping his foot to hide his own eagerness. “Yes, we are. Come on, let’s go.” And he walks away without looking back.

“What the fuck was that?” Yurio snaps the second they’re back inside the mansion, jutting his thumb back over his shoulder. “Is he that sore of a loser? Wouldn’t surprise me.”

Yuuri snorts, while Minami looks aways and fiddles with his fingers.

Yuuri narrows his eyes at the nervous tick. “No, there’s something… off with him, today. Do you have a clue about it, Minami?”

Minami jumps. “No! I mean, really. I don’t. I’m just… worried. I don’t know what’s happening, and Phichit and Chris don’t seem to notice anything.”

It could be a trick, a lie. But Minami seems earnest about it, and if he shuts down everything that Minami says, he won’t make any progress with the young god. He might not be a tool anymore, but he is Yuuri’s apprentice. So he just nods, looking forward. He’ll talk to Minako about it tomorrow, when she’s free. Maybe they can rope in some other gods to help see if he’s trying to use his powers for some trick or attack.

“Of course they don’t notice, they’re idiots,” Yurio grumbles. “Smart people wouldn’t side with an asshole like Victor.”

Minami opens his mouth, but decides against his words and worries his lip instead.

Yuuri places a hand on Minami’s shoulder, then looks ahead toward Yurio’s scowl.

“What are you going to do if he wins and guesses right?” It’s just a little too weak coming out of Yurio’s mouth to be an accusation, something Yuuri can only notice after years of listening to him go off.

“He won’t.” He could, but Yuuri can’t consider that possibility. It’s too obvious. He would never. Right?

“He could.” Yurio jabs a finger at him. “And then what?”

“Then… he’s won, I guess.” Yuuri shrugs, even as his heartbeat quickens at the possibility, his hands going a little clammy.

“No!” Minami and Yurio both shout, the former grabbing Yuuri’s hand while the latter just glares.

“The second he goes for it, whatever the hell it is, you run and get the whole damn Underworld to help, got it?” Yurio growls, while Minami nods eagerly at his side.

“All right, fine.” Yuuri bites back a chuckle at imagining running from Victor while he keeps trying to jab him with a sword, almost cartoonish. “Now, do you want to learn the dances, or are you going to keep distracting me?”

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day goes smoothly. Too smooth, if you ask Yuuri. Despite trying to keep the match as even as possible, Victor’s even slower and stiffer than in the morning, so he wins again. It’s the first time he hasn’t had an attempt on his life in days, but Victor doesn’t even seem to care, wandering away afterward with Makka hesitating at his feet. She tries to gowith Yuuri for a second, but he waves her after Victor. It’s obvious who needs her right now.

Even if it means sleeping is hell that evening.

He can’t stop tossing and turning, can’t stop thinking about what was wrong with Victor, how Victor could easily end his life if he just made the right guess. He’s been thinking that’s it’s just too obvious, he wouldn’t go for it, but Yurio and Minami are right. He could, he could, _he could_.

When he manages to fall asleep, his dreams are full of chases and sharp blades and blood, so much blood as he loses feeling in his fingers and toes, the rest of his body slipping away. Blue eyes follow him everywhere, tearing away any escape, cutting him off from kinder dreams, reminding him of a past that should be dead. If only he could get away, if only he could change his choices, if only—

A bark jolts Yuuri from sleep. He sits straight up in bed, heart beating so loud that he can’t hear anything else. Was it…? It could have been a part of his dream. He runs a hand through his hair, the unruly strands falling back down into his face despite his efforts.

Maybe he should just get up. It’s not like he’s been getting much sleep anyway.

Another bark echoes through the room, muffled by distance and doors, followed by frantic scraping.

Yuuri’s on his feet without any memory of getting up, bare feet slapping against white marble as he runs through rooms, practically colliding with the door heading out into the hallway, even as he yanks it open.

Makkachin jumps on him with enough force to send him sprawling backward, head hitting the ground hard. She barks again, a cacophony of three heads with three mouths trying to say something that Yuuri couldn’t understand. Phichit has an affinity for animals, if only he—

No, he’s too late and too tired to think of that.

“What’s wrong, girl?” He murmurs, reaching up to scratch under the chin of one of her hands.

She leaps off him, prancing back toward the door, circling around while barking some more.

Well, she isn’t much larger than normal, which means she isn’t angry at least. But why does she have the three heads at all? Wait, why wasn’t she in his bed?

Oh.

Victor.

Why did she come to get him while staying with Victor?

He scrambles up to his feet, running after Makkachin as she barrels down the halls, leading him along. He knows the general area where Victor and his crew are staying, on the opposite side of the mansion, but no more details so he didn’t have to worry about it—he let the gods working here take care of all that. However, he knows enough to understand that’s where they’re going.

The darkness muffles his footfalls and her nails scraping along the floor, even as the quiet of the hallways seems to ring around them as they run.

Reasonably, Yuuri knows he should just let whatever’s happening happen. It could be a trap. But it’s Makka, and if she’s this freaking out over Victor, and he’s in danger or dead. Which shouldn’t be a reason to rush to his aid, not when he’s been doing what he has to Yuuri, but… he can’t help but need to make sure he’s all right. There’s a tingling under his skin, urging him to run and check, _needing_ to. Something’s wrong. Something’s _been_ wrong.

Thank the cosmos he sent Makkachin to stay with Victor tonight.

Makka skids to a stop in front of a door that’s open just enough for her wider than usual body to slip through, which she does. Yuuri hesitates, gasping in breaths. He shouldn’t be here, This is Victor’s space. Victor loathes him. But… _but_ …

He knocks on the door, loud enough that he hopes it could wake someone. “V-Victor?”

No answer.

Yuuri swallows, only hesitating a second before pushing the door open farther.

It’s nearly too dark to see for a moment, before his eyes adjust to the purple-tinted moonlight seeping in around the curtains. Victor only has a bedroom here, nothing compared to what Yuuri has, but the less room he has for plotting, the better. He steps around the few pieces of furniture in the nearly-empty room, following the sweep of Makka’s tail until he’s standing next to the bed.

Victor lays face-up, not even under the covers, dressed in the same clothes he was wearing during the day. And he’s as still as the dead.

There’s a roaring underneath Yuuri’s skin, and he suddenly places it—it’s his strings of fate. The same ones that the priests had tied together on his wedding day, binding the two of them. That’s what’s been screaming that something’s been wrong with Victor, that’s how he caught glimpses underneath his illusion. He hadn’t even thought of Victor as his husband in so long, if really ever, but now… now…

He reaches out and touches Victor’s shoulder, the skin beneath feeling cool, too cool. “Victor.”

Nothing happens. Yuuri’s hands begin to shake, his breathing coming quicker and quicker. Victor’s soul is still in there in his body, he couldn’t gather it now even if he wanted to, but this isn’t normal, and there are fates worse than death. What will Yakov do, once he hears?

Victor’s chest heaves as he takes in a deep breath, his eyes fluttering open, but not focusing on anything.

Yuuri nearly collapses, barely hanging onto his composure. “Victor? Victor, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

That gets his attention, eyes slowly turning toward Yuuri, nearly lacking their usual malice.

Yuuri’s gut screams _wrong_ as Victor takes a second to process what’s going on. He looks so frail, so thin here. Not like the man who’s been terrorizing Yuuri, but instead the terrorized.

Finally, Victor wheezes in a sharp breath, chuckling softly. “Looks like I’m out of time.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, this is a terrible cliffhanger, I’m really sorry, _but_ when I was editing the first part I was cackling with how many ~euphemisms~ were there during the sword fighting, some lines in particular, I just—
> 
> *ehem*
> 
> Buckle up for the next few chapters, folks. The thing you’ve all been dreading/waiting for is fastly approaching.
> 
> Thank you so much to [AceMoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet) for betaing this chapter!!! <3 And thank YOU guys for being so awesome and amazing and supportive. I definitely wouldn't have made it so far without you and your comments. <3 <3 <3 ~~Pls don't kill me~~
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v)


	10. X

“Out of… time?” Yuuri echoes Victor’s words, tasting them on his tongue as he tries to make sense of them. He’s never mentioned anything about time before, it isn’t an issue for gods. If he was going to die of old age, Yuuri would feel it. Marriage doesn’t exactly have a time limit. Their fencing was going on for as long as they both wanted, hopefully as long as Yuuri needed to make a plan. But this? It makes no sense. “What?”

Victor’s eyes flutter shut again as he grimaces.

The sense of sick wrongness pulses through Yuuri like it has its own circulatory system, driving Yuuri to do _something_. But what can he do, when he’s got no idea what’s going on?

Victor opens his eyes again, but he only looks at the ceiling. “I… I learned I can only spend so long in Death’s kingdom, years ago. Thought I’d have longer, though. Much longer.” He chuckles softly. “Lucky you.”

“Lucky me?” Stinging crawls up Yuuri’s throat to his eyes, tears dropping before he can control them. “You’re such an _idiot_. Do you know what I’ve done for you, what I’ve—” But Victor doesn’t care about that, he never has. He wouldn’t understand how Yuuri feels now. He never will. To Victor, Yuuri’s an enemy. But not to Yuuri. That road doesn’t go both ways. “What’s happening?”

Victor’s shoulders twitch, an attempt at a shrug, eyes closing and words slurring. “Guess life can’t live in death.”

But it isn’t how he dies. Yuuri’s intimately familiar with Victor’s mortality, and there’s no way this could even remotely kill him. But now that he mentions it… Yuuri moves his hand from Victor’s shoulder to his chest. His spirit isn’t escaping the confines of his body, no, but his _life_ is fading. The same way that Yuuri’s would, if he fell into the pools of the dead, sending him into a coma, a stupor that perhaps no one could ever wake from.

But how? How has Victor been fencing like this? No _wonder_ he’s so drained. Though Yuuri does remember the bags under Victor’s eyes in the mortal realm… could he have exhausted himself to this point?

He has to do something.

Though… this would be an easy way out. Letting Victor fall into a coma that no one could prevent, that no one even seemed to know about. It wouldn’t be Yuuri’s fault. It would be no one’s fault, save maybe Victor’s since he never told anyone. Yakov couldn’t take it out on Yuuri, and Yuuri would be free to live his life in peace, teaching Yurio and Minami how to dance to the dead, and letting Chris and Phichit go off and do whatever the hell they want to do.

No. _No_. Gods, why did he even _think_ about that? His stomach churns and he grits his teeth. After all he’s done, he’s not letting Victor go without a fight. He can’t just bash his way into Yuuri’s life, terrorize him for a few weeks, and then just go away like this. If Victor’s not going to follow through on killing him, he owes Yuuri a damned good apology.

Yuuri presses his hand more firmly on Victor’s chest, climbing on the bed and straddling him. Victor’s eyes flutter at the movement, but he doesn’t open them or say anything. Yuuri can feel the last dregs of his life dripping away beneath his fingertips. He closes his eyes and reaches out with the power within him, searching through Victor for whatever the hell it is that’s been draining him like this. If it’s his home, his kingdom that’s been doing this to Victor, he should be able to undo it.

But there’s nothing wrong that he can tell. He’s never been particularly talented in healing, losing all abilities to do so after forfeiting his ability to create life, but he should be able to control whatever his kingdom’s doing. Instead, it’s almost like… Gods, he’s making it _worse_. Everywhere his power touches Victor, it sucks that withered, warm life out of him.

He pushes himself back, off of Victor, careful that they don’t touch directly in any way. His feet stumble beneath him, legs weak. The strain of Victor on the threads that the priests tied together, the effort to try and heal when he can’t, and the fact that he hasn’t slept well in ages leaves Yuuri sore and breathing heavily, like he ran a marathon when really he’s done nothing.

He’s useless. Utterly and completely _useless_. He’s used too much power, and that power only made everything worse, and now what can he do? He may have the title of Death, but he’s just a weak imitation of the gods before him. He doubts his power even compares to Victor’s.

Makkachin whines, making Yuuri jump.

He reaches out with a trembling hand, petting her. “It’s all right, girl.” There has to be a solution. He knows the problem, therefore…

If the Underworld is killing him, Yuuri needs to get Victor to the Overworld.

Yuuri slides off the bed, quickly wrapping Victor up in the sheets to make sure they don’t come into contact, and lifting him into his arms.

He’s so light in Yuuri’s arms. Too light. Gods, how badly has this been eating away at him? Gritting his teeth against the burn in his arms and the dragging weight of his legs, he strides through the hallways, back toward the other side of the mansion—but not his own room. He shifts the bundle in his arms and knocks hard at a different door. He could just walk through, but it wouldn’t help his cause. Not that Makkachin barking at his side helps either.

“What the hell do you— _what the fuck_?” Yurio’s eyes nearly bug out as he catches sight of Victor’s pale face from amidst the trailing blanket. “Holy shit. Holy _shit_. You killed him. You fucking killed him. I mean. Good. You should have a long time ago. I just…” He reaches toward Victor, hand trembling.

Yuuri pushes past him, dumping Victor on a couch before his arms threaten to give out. “He’s not dead, Yurio,” he pants. “I promised you that you could do that, remember?”

Yurio just stares with wide eyes from the doorway, supporting himself on the frame.

Yuuri sighs. “The Underworld is killing him somehow. I tried to stop it, and I used too much energy trying it, and only made it worse. I need you to send us back up to the Overworld.”

Finally, Yurio’s eyes snap to him. “You can get back up there by yourself. It’s nothing to get there for someone like you.”

“No.” Yuuri shakes his head. “Not where I want to go.”

“What—?”

“I need to get directly to Yakov. Into his quarters. If this isn’t reversed right away… He might not be dead, but he’ll be as good as.” Yuuri turns to look at Victor, trying and failing to see the motions of the god breathing. “I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

“You’re too fucking _nice_ ,” Yurio growls, pushing up the sleeves of his nightshirt—tiger-print sleeves.

Yuuri manages a small grin. “Thank you.”

“Thank me when you get back, assuming Yakov doesn’t kill you for showing up in the middle of the night like this. Fuck.” Yurio closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and concentrates.

A lower god, or a mortal, wouldn’t see anything change. But Yuuri does. Something swirls beneath him and Victor, a circle of power that’s shaped and textured and patterned in a way that’s distinctly Yurio. Normally the whole process would take a while, ten minutes at least to make sure it’s safe and that you don’t end up transported to the wrong area or even world, but he can feel the shock and fear pushing Yurio to move faster than normal. It’s safe, though. He’s probably transported himself to visit Yakov countless times—if rumors are to be believed, Yakov hasn’t ever had children himself, but he’ll take younger gods under his wing from time to time, and both Victor and Yurio had been close to him.

Meaning that Yurio will be able to bypass whatever protection Yakov has around his quarters, something that Yuuri couldn’t even dream of breaking through in his current state.

Yuuri gives Yurio a quick nod, and the power beneath them drags at him and Victor, pulling and pulling for what feels like minutes, but is really only a quick second before—

“What on earth.”

Yuuri blinks everything back into focus, eyes not entirely focusing as he looks for who just spoke—oh. He isn’t wearing his glasses, is he? He blinks around at the room, dimly lit shapes trying and failing to pull into focus. It’s not a bedroom, but maybe a sitting room, judging by the lumps of color that look like couches, and there’s a table of sorts. Behind him is a bundle on the floor, and Yuuri kneels down next to it, shifting Victor a little so his face is free from the blankets. His eyes move behind his lids, and Yuuri sucks in a breath. This could be it, this could be all he needs…

But Victor doesn’t stir again.

“What are you doing here?”

Yuuri tenses at the booming voice, turning to see Yakov getting to his feet. He spreads his arms, almost as if he’s protecting Victor, even though he _knows_ it’s ridiculous, that he came here to Yakov for help.

It gives the old god pause, though, even as his face begins to go red. “Did you bring me the corpse of a god that was practically my son?”

“No!” Yuuri rises to his feet, casting a quick look back down at Victor. “That’s… I would never. You should know that.”

Yakov looks at him for a second, and even with his blurry features, Yuuri can make out the crease in his forehead. “I wouldn’t blame you if you had.”

All Yuuri can do is gape at him. What? He wouldn’t blame Yuuri for bringing the corpse of someone he loves into his private chambers? That he _just_ yelled at him for? And why isn’t he asking Yuuri how he got into his room? Or at least he assumes it’s Yakov’s room.

Yakov steps closer. “I hear that he’s been causing you trouble.”

“Ah,” Yuuri manages. Trouble feels like a bit of an understatement, if he’s being honest. “He… has. But I would never, not after…”

Yakov nods. “What’s going on?”

Yuuri lets out a breath, small enough that he hopes that Yakov doesn’t notice. “He needs help. Before he fell unconscious he said that the Underworld was killing him, and I checked and it seems like it’s draining his lifeforce. He won’t die, but…”

Yakov gives a grunt. “And he knew about it.”

Yuuri nods. “I… I think so. I swear I had no idea, or I’d—”

“As I said, I’ve heard the stories of the trouble he’s been giving you. I have as much invested in this treaty as you, if not more.” Yakov meets his eye. “And I know what you gave up to end the war. I was there. At this point, I’m more inclined to believe you than I am to believe him.”

Heat crawls up into Yuuri’s cheeks, his bafflement breaking through all the walls he tries to hide his emotions behind. “W-what?”

Yakov lets out a long sigh. “If I’d known what he was up to, I wouldn’t have let any of this happen. Do you know why he’s doing this?”

Yuuri’s eyes widen, and his mouth falls open.

Yakov doesn’t know.

And if Yakov doesn’t know everything, that means that Chris and Phichit and Minami can’t possibly know. Yuuri’s the only person in the Underworld and Overworld who knows the truth about what happened with Victor, what started the peace talks, what made Victor begin to loathe him so much. And yet Victor keeps insisting they know. That sense of wrongness tickles and burns underneath his skin, but he pushes it aside. Not now.

“I do.” Yuuri takes a shaky breath. “But now’s not the time to talk about it. I don’t know if he’s still having his life sucked from him, and if I check things will get worse.” He steps aside, away from Victor so that Yakov can move closer.

He doesn’t though. His eyes stay on Yuuri, and he takes a deep breath. “Are you sure you want this?”

Yuuri nods, hesitation gone. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have brought him.” Despite how easy it would be otherwise. Despite how peaceful the Underworld would be. Yuuri’s lips twitch up. “After all, he is my husband.”

Yakov sighs and finally moves forward, and Yuuri’s fairly sure he hears him muttering, “Idiots, the both of them,” but he can’t be sure. He kneels next to Victor, brushing the hair from his face and frowning for a moment until he places his palm on Victor’s forehead.

The silence stretches on, wrapping its fingers around Yuuri’s throat as he resists the urge to ask, to know what Yakov sees, if the damage is irreversible. What if it is? He should be relieved, he’d have done everything he could to save Victor’s life, and Yakov is a witness to it. There would be whispers that he did it on purpose, of course, and he’s sure if Yakov knows what’s been going on in Yuuri’s house, other people would know. The war is still such a recent event for so many gods, though, they wouldn’t want to instigate another one. And he’d have to marry someone else. Retie his frayed threads to another god.

His stomach churns at the thought. He’s like an offering, a lamb on the altar to whoever claims him next.

Yakov leans back, grunting a bit.

“Is he…?” Yuuri bites his lip.

“He’s still there, but barely.” Yakov shakes his head. “Stupid boy.”

Yuuri’s shoulders slump as he grasps at the news. Relief crashes through him, and tears build in his eyes. “Thank the cosmos.”

“Don’t go thanking it yet.” He gets to his feet. “The reason the Underworld was sapping away his health was because of what happened, years ago. You rushed it, understandably, but Death has no place in life, and we aren’t built the same way as you are.”

“Oh.” Honestly, Yuuri barely remembers that moment, just the cold eating at his flesh and freezing his fingers, the desperation clouding his brain. “Then you can fix it?”

Yakov hesitates then, causing a sickness pool in Yuuri’s gut. “I cannot. Maybe I can help, but the only one who can fix him is you.”

Yuuri blinks. “But when I tried to take the influence of Death out of him, it made it worse.”

“I imagine it would.” Yakov sighs. “It isn’t that you or your world is the problem. The problem is that he’s Spring, and now he’s infused with Death. We need to take his life, cleanse it, and protect it with your power.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” It sounds simple enough, but if it were simple, they’d already be doing it. He’s beating around the bush. “What’s the real problem?”

He glances up, meeting Yuuri’s gaze. “It will take the same power it did when you last sacrificed yourself for peace.”

Yuuri sucks in a deep breath. He tore himself open for a desperate hope, only to have it thrown into his face, to have his ability to create life torn and withering at his feet. He lost all that mattered, all that he had to live for. What would it take for him to do this, what would be the cost?

But… does he have anything else he absolutely cannot stand to lose?

If he loses his ability to dance with the dead, Yurio and Minami can at least get the job done. And that part of him is so ingrained with who he is, he can’t imagine that it could ever be torn from his body.

He knows he shouldn’t, he can almost feel Minako yelling at him worlds away. And he knows Victor will only hate him more for it.

But he can’t let Victor die. It seems to be his greatest weakness, even more so than his mortal one. He shouldn’t have any love left for a man that wants to kill him, but part of him still sees the younger god that he’d met so many years ago in the silver of his hair and the blue of his eyes. And Yuuri might have sacrificed his dreams on a cross of his own making, but they never feel like they truly have to die if Victor’s still here.

So, despite everything, knowing full well that it’s a mistake, he nods.

Yakov lets out another sigh, waving him over. “This will be easier on you than what happened before. Just touch him and I can take over the rest. I’ll make sure the process is clean. But are you absolutely sure?”

Yuuri laughs dryly as he steps over and kneels next to Victor. “You almost sound like you don’t want me doing this.”

Yakov looks down at Victor, taking just a second to think. “If anything I want to be selfish and insist that you do it right this instant. But you’ve already sacrificed so much for this foolish boy.”

Yuuri brings a hand to his chest, clutching the fabric there. Yakov didn’t see his final sacrifice, no one was supposed to know. “Did… Did my parents…?”

“Yes, they told me quite a bit.” Yakov snorts. “I’m not sure whether they wanted to make me feel guilty, or they were simply using it for negotiations. Either way, it doesn’t matter. We’re here now, with my foolish son being an idiot again. Are you ready?”

Yuuri nods, a jerky movement, and reaches out his hand. Yakov takes it, pressing it to Victor’s forehead.

He lets himself unravel a bit again, reaching out tentatively with his power toward Victor when Yakov grabs that too, diving in and tearing through Victor, and ripping Yuuri to shreds in the process.

Yuuri can’t fight back his scream as he’s torn, burning and stinging crawling through his body and pulling him apart at the seams of his existence. How the hell he did this to himself the first time, he doesn’t know, he can’t know, nothing makes sense other than the _pain_.

He tries to focus on breathing, in and out of his chest, but it just doesn’t work. Nothing works. He tries to pull back, find his lips and his tongue to say he’s changed his mind, this isn’t what he wants, the world can _burn_ for all he cares, but he can’t.

He can do nothing, and the world goes dark.

 

* * *

 

It’s dark and everything hurts. Like Yuuri had just run a marathon across all the worlds, and everything burns and stings and _hurts_.

But it’s not as bad as last time, not by far.

He sucks a raw breath into his lungs, wincing. Well, at least he’s alive. Somehow. He tentatively curls his fingers and toes, making sure all body parts are there—it was power that was taken last time, but who knows what it took this time?

“Oh look, sleeping beauty’s up.”

Yuuri cracks open his eyes, and can’t help but give a small grin to the person standing at the side of his bed, despite the firing of pain to his nerves. “Mari! Why are you here?”

She just stares for a second, brown eyes narrowed, and it gives Yuuri a chance to let his own eyes wander.

He’s not in the Overworld. This is… these are his own rooms. He’s lying in his bed, wrapped in his own sheets, breathing the air of his own world. But… who would have brought him back? Who could? And… did Victor…?

Eventually, Mari snorts. “I can’t believe you even asked that. Rumor has it your new _husband_ —which, sorry I missed the wedding considering I got no days notice—is enjoying plotting your murder.” The scowl on her face doesn’t really help the sincerity of her apology.

“Um…” Yuuri winces, at his weak tone, at the pain, at having to admit this all to his big sister. “Sort of?”

She narrows her eyes. “What do you mean, _sort of_?”

“Well.” Yuuri’s mind races as fast as it can in its sluggish state. “We had kind of a deal about the murdering business? So it was less, you know, plotting.”

“Yuuri, I swear to the cosmos…”

He attempts an apologetic smile, finding that talking comes a little easier the more he does it. The rest of his body he’s sure won’t be so pleased. “He never figured out how to kill me, though.”

“Yeah, of course not,” Mari snaps. “If there’s anything you’re good at, it’s keeping secrets.”

Yuuri glances away. “I… I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She sighs, sitting on the sheets next to him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… no worse than last time.” He still can’t bring himself to look at her, and can’t help but wish he could fiddle with his sheets and not have it hurt like hell. “I don’t know what I lost in exchange, though.”

“I do.”

That gets him looking back, finding her frowning. “What?”

“Not that it’s anything that you’ll really miss, but you can’t leave the Underworld anymore. Apparently, it ripped you right from the Overworld and back here. I’ve never heard of Yakov freaking out like he did when he tried to find out where you disappeared to.”

Yuuri tries to sit up, failing and flopping back down with a hiss. “Does that mean… is Victor…?”

“Your shitbag of a husband is fine. Recovering, apparently.” She reaches over and gently takes Yuuri’s hand where it rests on the top of the covers. “You shouldn’t have saved him.”

Yuuri blinks, trying to fight back tears, and he doesn’t even entirely know why he wants to cry. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“No. I don’t.” She squeezes his hand ever so gently, so it barely hurts. “But I think it’s about time I did. And don’t tell me that it’s not your story to tell, because it damn well is. Maybe that scumbag has something to lose, but you’ve already lost so much. You can’t lose more. I don’t know if any of us can take watching you suffer anymore.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, a refusal on his tongue, but he hesitates. It’s still true, it’s not his story to tell. But the wounds that he bears, so many of them for someone who will never appreciate them, weigh heavy and fresh on his shoulders. Maybe he never wanted to travel worlds, but he always had the option, he always had the power. It was a choice. But he doesn’t have a choice anymore. So he doesn’t refuse. Instead, he whispers, “It won’t help you make sense of it. It hasn’t been helping me. If anything, it makes all of this more confusing.”

She just stares for a moment, probably processing the shock that Yuuri didn’t say no. “Well, maybe I’ll see something that you missed. Sometimes it’s hard to see outside of yourself.”

He should say no. She’s cheating, asking while he’s like this. But it’s all unfair at this point, isn’t it? Yuuri’s fought so hard for so long to only do good by Victor and it keeps backfiring, it only keeps making things worse.

Victor hates him. He has nothing left to lose.

“All right. I’ll tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you imagine if Yuuri had Yurio transport them to Yakov, and Victor popped right up totally fine and Yuuri would have to be all HAHA, WHOOPS, SORRY.
> 
> Hope ya’ll are ready for the next three chapter's worth of flashbacks ~~because I’m not~~
> 
> Thank you to both Blue and [AceMoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet) for helping me conquer this mess of a chapter! And thank YOU guys for staying and supporting me on this wild angst ride!!! I appreciate every kudo and comment more than I can express in words. <3 <3 <3
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v)


	11. XI

When Yuuri was born, the war between the Overworld and Underworld hadn't ended, but the fighting had entered a tentative calm. His mother used to guess that was the reason that both life and death were so strong in him. Whether or not she seriously thought that was the reason or was simply teasing, Yuuri never knew—he never asked. She and his father encouraged the growth of both, insisting that it must be a sign from the cosmos that he was meant to wield both.

He was not.

Everyone insisted that he was so powerful, but he struggled to even grasp his own power, much less use it. Minako helped, a lot. Her lessons and her tonics helped him control his helplessness, but it didn’t cure him. There wasn’t any cure.

He enjoyed the dancing, though. He and Mari both trained as his parents’ apprentices, first starting the basics with Minako, and then watching the sunrise and sunset rituals.

And it was _beautiful_. How the water and the spirits and his parents moved. But it was also absolutely terrifying, and he wondered how on earth he was supposed to be able to do _that_ when it felt like some days he could barely put one foot in front of the other.

His family somehow kept faith in him though, training him to the point where he could start his work as a Reaper. It was something that every member of the family of Death would do, they had to understand the process entirely; all the way from harvesting the souls to sending them along. He had been younger than Yurio or even Minami is now, then, though he had some years on Yuuko's triplets. Not an adult, by any means, even if not quite a child.

But he had felt so young, still.

He was going to handle people’s souls, the only thing they had left after they were gone. He was supposed to somehow keep them safe and healthy as he made his rounds in his assigned part of the worlds, not let them get damaged, not let them get lost. If they spent too much time out of his care, they would dissolve entirely, and he would fail.

It was too much.

He ran.

He’d been learning how to transport himself with his own power, and it was still tricky—he’d be shadowing Mari to learn how to reap and would have had her drag him around for some time yet, but he couldn’t stay. Not when he knew he’d only let everyone down.

And he proved that, when he meant to go to the mortal world, and ended up in the Overworld.

He didn’t know how exactly he knew where he was, he’d never been up there before in his life. Maybe it was the strange pink tint in the sky, the way the air seemed to buzz with life as opposed to the comforting muffle of the dead. There wasn’t much else to judge it by. The ground of the small field Yuuri was in had still been covered in a small bit of snow, the trees still skeletal without their leaves.

His first instinct was to try and go back to the Underworld, but what if he ended up somewhere else? What if he accidentally made himself appear in the middle of Yakov’s palace, and then the Overworld gods held him ransom so that his parents surrendered? And then what would they do with him? The fighting’s been picking up again, lately. Yuuri had asked why they’re fighting, but it seems like they’d been warring for so long no one even remembers the exact reason, only that they couldn’t let the other win.

It was so stupid.

Almost as stupid as him.

Yuuri shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. It was colder there than in the Underworld. Ironic, considering the rumors the Overworld spreads about his kingdom. He only knew them because the mortals had picked up on them, patched together a horrifying place for their dead to lay to rest.

No wonder they feared Death so much.

A rustle jolted Yuuri from his thoughts, dragging him back to the very real possibility that someone could murder him any second. Maybe it was just some animal, a bird. Phoenixes were rather active in the Overworld at that time of year, right? Just a bird.

Except that it wasn’t.

A figure wove through the dead brush, so fluid in their movements that it took Yuuri a moment to realize that’s not all that was coming his way. It was… green. The pale green of fresh growth wove up from the branches and the ground, moving with the same grace and rhythm as the god coming Yuuri’s way.

Too late, Yuuri realized he should run.

But he didn’t want to.

The god, a boy with long hair flowing behind him like liquid silver, leapt into the clearing, twirling as small white flowers bloomed beneath his feet, so delicate and beautiful.

Until he caught Yuuri’s eye, and stumbled.

Without thinking, Yuuri stepped forward and caught him.

He was heavier than Yuuri expected from his graceful, weightless movements, but he supposed that he’d need muscle to move like that, to carry all that life in his movements. His eyes were the blue of the sky on a hot summer’s day, a clear color that bore through Yuuri’s own eyes and into his soul.

This… he’d heard of this boy. The God of Spring. But what was his name? Gods, if someone this beautiful would be the one to kill him or capture him, maybe his mistake wouldn’t be so bad.

The God of Spring blinked, standing up straight, but not moving away from Yuuri’s arms. Instead he leaned closer, his breath warm against Yuuri’s ear. “Dance with me?”

Yuuri sucked in a deep breath as if he hadn’t been breathing, his lungs tight and aching. “W-what?”

“There are others in the woods, helping me.” The boy paused and Yuuri heard it, the slight rustle of movement around them, the air warming as the earthy scent of fresh life filled his senses. “They won’t notice if you’re moving with me, helping me bring spring in. So.” He smiled, a tentative thing that looked so easy to break. “May I have this dance?”

For a second it was all Yuuri could do to stay still, not bolt away. It could’ve been a trap. A beautiful, wonderful trap. It was as if his life until this point had been spent half-awake, and right then, as his heart hammered in his chest and Spring himself—an _enemy_ of Death—smiled at him, he was awake. For the first time ever, he knew what he wanted. He wanted to dance for Life.

Just as the boy’s smile began to falter, Yuuri adjusted his hands, and tugged the God of Spring into motion.

The boy’s mouth popped open in a small “o.” His body stayed stiff, and Yuuri nearly let go—and then Spring held him tighter, and they moved.

Yuuri had trained in the power of both Life and Death, but as Spring’s magic curled around him, warm and tickling his skin, he realized he knew absolutely nothing. After all, who in Death’s domain properly knew life? Who could teach him?

He let himself be guided through the forest, everything blooming into that delicate green as something grew warm and soft in Yuuri’s chest. He grinned, and the God of Spring’s own smile grew to match it. The warmth spread into his limbs, deep into his gut, and it spurred something even deeper in him. No longer content to simply be led, Yuuri took steps of his own, ones woven into his very being by Minako. Each move had a purpose, meant to speak to the dead in ways that he couldn’t while standing still, but who said that life couldn’t respond just as well to the same motions? He let himself slip into the quiet music of the wind and the whispering of branches that rustled light with leaves, twirling with the God of Spring.

Before he could even so much as question if he overstepped, the boy beamed, drawing Yuuri so close that he had to remember to breathe. This close, Yuuri could see that the God of Spring had freckles, delicately arching across his face and his nose.

He was gorgeous. This dance, the life unfolding and breathing into their season, was resplendent. This boy, this god, _he_ was resplendent. And Yuuri never wanted to let go.

He picked up the pace, feeling himself, his power, curling around Spring’s as their movements echoed one another. Yuuri grasped at the movements that he’d never seen before, and the boy took movements that had previously only belonged to Death, and the both of them drew out flowers that were vibrant blurs of blue and purple and pink.

They laughed as they danced, the joy of it seeping out through their lips despite trying to be quiet, keep out of the attention of others. Yuuri really should have cared more, thought about what would happen if he, heir of Death itself, were caught. But this was what he wanted. Not to dance to the dead, to walk among their creepy whispering and their swarm of fingers and hands wanting to clutch at him and drag him down. He wanted life. He wanted to create and grow and dance with this god forever.

But forever never seemed to truly exist, not even for a god.

Eventually, Yuuri’s flimsy supply of untrained life ran too low to even keep moving, his exhausted legs collapsing beneath him, and bringing the God of Spring down with him. They landed side by side, hand in hand despite sweating fingers, panting into the warming air. There was an empty ache in Yuuri’s chest, but not in a way that left him in pain, but more… satisfied. Yeah. Yuuri was satisfied.

Once he had caught his breath, Yuuri shifted, scooting up to his elbows to glance down at the god next to him without having to let go of their hands. He smiled nervously, and found it echoed on the other boy’s face.

“I can’t believe you’re moving.” Spring panted, smile never leaving. It was almost heart-shaped, the realization making Yuuri’s own heart stutter. “I don’t think I’ll be moving for days, and this is what I’m trained to do!”

Yuuri laughed, a wheezing thing. “Um. I guess my instructor is strict, she doesn’t let me take breaks or anything.”

Spring giggled. “Neither does mine! I guess you just have good stamina.” He didn’t get up like Yuuri, but he rolled onto his side, looking up at him. “My name’s Victor, by the way.”

“I, uh, I’m Yuuri.”

Victor’s eyebrows furrowed, like Yuuri’s name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. Thank the cosmos. “And you… you’re not from around here, are you?”

Yuuri winced, looking away at the green that hadn’t even existed in this forest until Victor. No, not just Victor. Him too. “Unfortunately, no.”

Fingers gently brushed along Yuuri’s jaw, turning him to look at Victor, who’s had sat up so, _so_ close to Yuuri.

“I don’t think it’s unfortunate.” Victor’s smile was true, but there was a sadness, a distance in his eyes. “I think, rather, this war is unfortunate. And pointless. After all, it would be so much more fun if I could be dancing in the spring with you every year, instead of alone.” He said the last word as if it had more weight than the rest, as if it meant more.

Heat rose to Yuuri’s cheeks. “I-I don’t think I’d be a very good partner to dance spring in with, I, um, normally dance for the dead?” Well, he was training to do that, still a child in the eyes of most gods.

“Really?” Victor’s eyebrows rose again. “Because look around you. Look at what we’ve done.” Victor took his hand from Yuuri’s face, and gestured at the growth around him.

Yuuri followed the movement, eyes trailing over the green spattered over branches and bushes. The grass around them was tall, almost wrapping them in their embrace. Flowers bloomed around them as well, their gentle, sweet smell filling the air as a gentle breeze whistled through the trees. It was gorgeous. Yuuri never wanted to leave.

Victor reached down, plucking a daisy from between them, and gently slid it behind Yuuri’s ear. “I’ve never brought on a spring like this, not since I became Spring, even when I decide to have others help me. You… Maybe you don’t have to be defined by what you do.” He whispered the words, like they were delicate, as if they might break.

And they did break. They broke in Yuuri’s chest, wrapped around his heart as they beat with it, whispering hope into a life that Yuuri had thought was hopeless. He gripped Victor’s hand tighter. “Yeah. Maybe… maybe you’re right.”

And Victor smiled, so large and so bright, it was all Yuuri could do to keep from melting in it. “You’re so kind, Yuuri.” His name slipped from Victor’s lips like a secret, like a promise. But then his brightness faded. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you can stay, though. How did you get here? We guard this place at the change of the seasons.”

“Oh.” Yuuri’s blush grew until his cheeks burned. “Um. I… I was trying to travel somewhere else, but I don’t have a lot of experience in going between the worlds? So I… kinda messed up.”

Victor just stared for a long moment, before bursting into laughter. “Even your mistakes are powerful!”

“I-I’m not… A mistake is a mistake.” Yuuri looked down at their joined hands, gritting his teeth.

“It’s a mistake that let me dance with you, so I’m grateful for it.” Victor sighed, and Yuuri looked up as Victor turned toward the sky. “If only you could stay.”

“Well… the war will end eventually.” Yuuri knew it was a foolish thing to say the moment it came out of his mouth, but he couldn’t take it back. It could be a millennia until the fighting stopped, eternity come and gone.

“Eventually” Victor repeated the word dryly before collapsing back into the grass. “Years and years more of fighting, of being pressured into the battles and the tricking and the pointless death, just so that one side can prove a point they’ve long since forgotten. All I want is to spend my time dancing in spring, but I can’t even do that without being guarded and watched, exchanging what I want to do with what I have to do. You know… I don’t even care for it anymore? It feels empty.”

Like there’s no point, like it’s better to give up before it got worse. Yuuri knew what he felt wasn’t exactly the same as what Victor explained, that they’re truly from different worlds, that Victor was actually _good_ at what he did. But somewhere deep inside of him, he understood. If only he could have stayed with Victor, if he maybe they could have found a way to grow together, to dance again. Maybe… maybe they would’ve been able to dance to death the same way they danced to the spring. They could’ve been friends. They could’ve been whatever they wanted to be, without the war. The dumb _war_. “Then… then I’ll find a way to stop the war.”

Victor smiled, something that didn’t spread beyond his lips. “I would like to see that.”

Yuuri scowled. He wasn’t taking him seriously, was he? But Yuuri… maybe he messed up a lot, but someday, he would be the God of Death, the ruler of an entire kingdom, in charge of thousands upon thousands of souls. He could do it. He _would_ do it.

This time it was Yuuri that moved closer to Victor, leaning over him so that he could look nowhere but at Yuuri, see the determination that lit his eyes on fire. “I _will_ end the war. And then… then we can dance again. I promise. I swear on all the souls in the pools of the dead.”

Victor’s eyes widened, and his jaw fell slack.

Maybe Yuuri was being too much. Maybe he was being silly. He was still young, younger than Victor if he had to guess, but it had felt right to say. That never meant it was the right in the end, though.

He made to pull away, give Victor space and maybe give himself the opportunity to run into the woods and chance whatever else was out there. But, before he could move, Victor’s arms wrapped around him and dragged him down. Yuuri collapsed onto Victor, ear pressed up against his chest to catch the way that Victor’s heart raced beneath his skin, just like Yuuri’s did, too.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” Victor laughed a little, smile evident in his voice. “I’ll hold you to that promise. And then I’ll show you around the Overworld, and you’ll show me around the Underworld, and we can dance the spring in again. Deal?”

In slow, jerky movements, Yuuri hugged Victor back. “Deal.”

They laid there, just breathing and smiling for a long time, infinite and yet too short. Yuuri knew he’d do it. If he had Victor’s faith, he’d find a way. And with all he’d learned today, all he’d felt Victor creating, he’d hone the part of him that could create life until he could see himself standing proud next to Spring himself. He wouldn’t run anymore. He would become Death, and he would be the best Death there ever had been.

A rustling in the thick brush ripped Yuuri from his thoughts. Victor rolled them over so that Yuuri was against the ground, and Victor’s magic tingled against his skin once again.

“Think about your home, and that’s where you’ll go, okay?” Victor smiled down at Yuuri, and vaguely registered how Victor’s arms shook with exhaustion.

“But, I—” But he couldn’t stay, not if he wanted to be able to see Victor again and live through it. So he nodded, not quite trusting his voice.

Victor leaned down, touching his forehead to Yuuri’s. “We’ll see each other again. I can feel it. And I look forward to it Yuuri.”

Victor fell forward, collapsing, but Yuuri’s hands never reached him to catch his fall. Instead, a darkness consumed him, leaving him floating for a moment until he remembered home, he remembered his mom and his dad and the reaping he had run to escape.

And then he was there.

He blinked, trying to get his eyes to focus. He was in his bedroom, the air stale and stagnant compared to the fresh spring that clung to his robes. With shaking fingers he reached up to his hair, plucking the flower from it and cradling it in his hands for a moment before he walked right over to the bookshelves lining the wall opposite. He took the largest tome he could get his hands onto off the shelf, blowing the dust off it and placing the daisy inside, shutting it to preserve it for as long as it would take to end the war, to save Victor from it.

It was his promise, and he would never forget.

Unlike Victor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys forgot that Yuuri mentioned Victor had forgotten their first meeting at their wedding, didn’t you? ;)
> 
> Haha, yeah, I totally had that title-drop planned from the beginning, ahahahahaha ~~I’m a liar~~
> 
> Part 1 of flashbacks and the happiest chapter in this fic so far! Weirdly! So, if you’re in the mood for pain (which you are, because you’re reading this), remember that Victor asked, “May I have this dance?” one other time in the fic.
> 
> You’re welcome.
> 
> Also, we’re getting into the, um, rougher tags the next two chapters. I’ll have warnings in the beginning notes, but if you aren’t worried about getting triggered and don’t want to be spoiled right before reading, don’t look at ‘em.
> 
> Thank you to [AceMoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet) for helping me clean up this mess of a chapter! I suck at past tense!!! Ahhh!!!!!!! And thank you guys for reading and putting up with my shenanigans. <3 <3 <3
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v)


	12. XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning (if none of the tags bother you, skip this and the next beginning notes for the next chapter to avoid spoilers): that character death tag comes into play, here.

Yuuri grew up.

Often it didn’t feel like it, but he did. His problems hardly went away, some days it was harder to drag himself out of bed and start reaping, but every morning he’d wander over to his bookshelf, open its largest book, and brush his fingers along the daisy there. He changed, his voice changed, but that flower always stayed the same.

No one had noticed his trip to the Overworld. If anyone caught the scent of spring clinging to him, exceptionally strong when the season hadn’t even seeped through to the mortal world, much less the Underworld, no one said a thing. Everyone just seemed to be happy he’d finally stopped freaking out about learning how to reap.

Well, stopped freaking out _as much_.

A god who called himself Celestino was the head Reaper at that time, and paired Yuuri up with someone who wasn’t Mari: Phichit. He wasn’t sure about splitting with the familiar at first, but Phichit was a great partner when things got rough, when they had to go into the fields and see the bloody aftermath that the war of the gods had left on the mortal realm. They had been instigating the most awful wars on and off for years, letting chaos and hunger and hatred run loose and cause damage to the natural forces that the opposing sides controlled.

Yuuri began to understand why Victor had been so sad and sick of things.

But Phichit kept him talking and distracted, Minako stepping in when things got too overwhelming. It was awful, but he was beginning to see he had support.

He had friends, he had goals, and he had dreams.

Phichit had even encouraged him when he’d started his garden. It wasn’t anything that Victor would have been impressed with, far from resplendent, but it was _his_ , and he kept getting better. Every single plant that he would dance into existence, beg to spring forward and breathe in the humid air, was more intricate, more unique than the plants standard in the Underworld. He practiced all the time, but his favorite time to dance would always, always be during the spring.

The seasons were the Overworld’s to control, so whatever came through to the Underworld was faint—but it was enough for Yuuri to feel. He’d sneak out into the forest around the pools on the night that spring would begin, wrapping himself in the feel of Victor’s magic, following the moves that he so acutely remembered. It wasn’t nearly as impressive as what they had woven together, but he did slowly, achingly slow, get better over time.

And if spring had gotten a little greener each year in the meantime? Well, no one mentioned it. For all anyone knew, the only way that Yuuri was honing the life within him was with his garden.

And Yuuri could only dream about it being more.

Phichit would tease him, joke that he must really want to be an Overworld god instead of the son of Death, but Yuuri would deny it. It wasn’t true, not entirely. Yuuri didn’t care about where he was born, only where he would end up.

Eventually, as they got older, he and Phichit started doing more and more of their work separately. Yuuri had his lessons as Death, and Phichit started advancing through the ranks, leaving them both doing solo missions.

So when Celestino pulled Yuuri aside one day to talk about an assignment alone, it wasn’t that big a deal. Not until he said where Yuuri was going.

“If you aren’t comfortable with it… Well, I’d like to give it to someone else, but you’re the only one who can pull it off safely, I think.” Celestino frowned, putting a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “We’re lucky you’re here.”

“B-but Mari!” Yuuri spluttered. “Surely she can…”

“She can’t get past their barriers, even if it’s for business.” Celestino shrugged. “That odd gift you were born with should get you in undetected, so long as you don’t do anything too crazy.”

Yuuri scowled. That “odd gift” was everything to him. And he’d been wanting to go back to the Overworld for ages, but to go on a trip to make a reaping? Most gods died in the mortal world, where all the fighting was, though this situation may not have been unheard of…

It would be impossible to even see Victor while he was there. He was directly under Yakov’s care, probably staying in the palace, right in the belly of the beast. And could he really meet Victor again when he didn’t even have a plan of action on how to stop the war? He’d been studying past conflicts of all shapes and sizes, trying to learn from them, find a way out, but—

Celestino’s hand squeezed Yuuri’s shoulder and jolted him from his thoughts. “I know you’re nervous, but I’ve taught you well enough to easily get in and out without anyone noticing. You’ll be fine.”

Funny, how the last thing that was on his mind was _not_ being noticed. All he really wanted was for one person _to_ notice him. But now that Celestino had mentioned it…

Yuuri gulped, nodding through the rest of Celestino’s pep talk, barely paying any attention. He’d heard it often enough, and it wasn’t like it had ever really helped in the first place. Not that Yuuri didn’t appreciate the effort, of course. It touched him, really. But he found that he cared a lot less about it right then and there.

How much progress had he really made since he last saw Victor? How much had he actually learned and grown?

It weighed down his thoughts as he carefully constructed his transportation to the Overworld—that, at least, he had grown in. He hadn’t made a mistake with it since that incident where he ended up in the Overworld.

And before he knew it, he was taking in deep breaths of the piercing cold.

Yuuri rubbed his arms, shifting on his feet as he took in the fields of snow around him, the trees weighed down under moaning branches of the stuff. He’d never seen so much of it in his lifetime. If his fingers weren’t already starting to go numb, he’d probably be in awe, able to appreciate the vastness of it more. As it were, his teeth were threatening to rattle out of his mouth. He didn’t have the thicker, more covering robes that he’d wear as Death yet, and damn, could he feel it.

If cold was supposed to be his cause of death, he’d be doomed.

Whoever Winter was, they should get a raise. Or get murdered.

Well, it obviously wasn’t that god he’d been sent to reap. He looked up to find the wispy trail of that soul in the air, flickering in a pale green light as it tried to draw Yuuri toward where the soul resided until he could shelter it.

He trudged through the snow, clinging to the amulet he’d imbued with power to keep him hidden from unwanted eyes. Even through the fluttering of thick snowflakes making a soft patter against the ground, Yuuri could make out the outline of the palace in the distance. There were many more gods up here than down below, and you could always tell it by the size of things.

What would it have been like, to walk up to the palace and ask to see Victor? How long would he have lasted? Though… his amulet was strong. It would be weaker around the sheer amount of gods of that level of power, but maybe something about having life and death in him would help. Maybe he could see him…

No.

Yuuri shook his head, heart thumping a little faster when he realized parts of his hair were frozen solid as they tapped against his forehead, and his fingertips were changing color. Dammit, Celestino had been up here before the war, you’d think that he would have warned Yuuri about the cold, let him indulge in clothing outside of the regulations—he’d never had issues with spirits trying to cling onto him like the other Reapers, after all. No, that only came out when he danced at the pools of the dead. And he’d rather have that as opposed to trudging through this dumb _snow_.

He huffed out a breath, watching it float up toward the soul trail—and he froze.

The trail was a solid green a moment ago, pale but green all the same. But a thicker thread of blue had woven around it, splitting off a bit, more vibrant than the green. Fresh.

Yuuri was only supposed to come here for one soul, and that one was strange enough, and already getting old. This… it couldn’t be…

Before he even fully grasped what anything meant, Yuuri’s feet were flying underneath him. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his gut and the unsettled shake in his movements as he stumbled and slipped through the snow.

Until he nearly toppled into a river.

He pulled back just in time, chunks of snow flying into the water, splashing some of the rushing current back up at him and making him cry out. Damn, it _stung_. He took a step away, tripping over something and barely catching his fall—instantly regretting it once his hands met the freezing snow. He sat up, rubbing his palms together in a futile attempt to warm them back up.

At least until his eyes landed on what tripped him.

It was a body. The skin was unbelievably pale, chest unnaturally still. Yuuri had seen his fair share of bodies, the gore he’d witnessed enough to give him nightmares for the next century, but this one chilled him like no other. He knew this man.

It was the hair that gave it away. It was cut short now, bangs plastered over the man’s forehead, but Yuuri would recognize that gorgeous shade of silver anywhere.

It was Victor.

Victor was where the soul trail led.

It was a fresh trail, but not fresh enough to resuscitate him, not if his heart had stopped. Not if drowning was the way he was supposed to die—which Yuuri knew it was. He tried not to pay attention to how gods would die, it was such an intimate knowledge. But it was still there, always lurking in his thoughts.

His breathing became shallow, tears pouring from his eyes and freezing on the ground, onto Victor as his hands fluttered uselessly over his corpse.

He’d failed. He’d fucked up. What had this all been for if Victor… if he…?

What good was he, being the heir of Death, if he couldn’t even save one person? There wasn’t any way to undo death, he’d heard it from his parents, from Minako, from Celestino, from anyone who had ever taught him anything.

But then again… had any other God of Death also had life in them as well? Had they learned from Spring himself like Yuuri had? If he was as powerful as people said he was, if he had the innate talent that people insisted he had, he could do this.

Taking shuddering breaths, Yuuri reached out, moving his fingers in a slight dance to lure the soul closer. It was already ragged, delicate as he wove the pale blue around his fingers—as if it had been floating there for weeks as opposed to minutes. Yuuri frowned. It didn’t look like Victor suffered a particularly violent death, but… how _had_ he died? How had it torn up his soul like this? Or… had it been before?

Yuuri shook his head. It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting Victor breathing, getting him to breathe by himself again.

He delicately pressed the soul into Victor’s chest, taking the part of him that sung when he danced in his garden, when he tried to help draw in the spring, and using it to _push_.

But it wouldn’t go in.

Yuuri bit his tongue on a wave of roiling panic churning in his gut. No, _no_ , this wasn’t an option. Even if it took Yuuri shoving his own soul in with Victor’s, he couldn’t let Victor die. Not the man who had given him a purpose, had given him goals when he was so absolutely lost and scared. He had meant so much to Yuuri, and he didn’t even know if Victor knew it.

And Yuuri needed to tell him, needed to let him know.

He changed his method. Instead of pushing, he moved a bit out of himself, tearing his way into a body that only wanted to reject him, and pulled Victor’s soul in with him. It _hurt_. It ripped and tore at him, cutting him as jagged as Victor’s own soul as he wove it back inside Victor’s body like he’d seen modeled in Minako’s lessons, how his own soul was woven into himself. It was like rubbing salt all over his insides, making him want to squirm when he _had_ to sit still to concentrate. It could have taken hours, it could have taken seconds, but it didn’t matter. The soul went in, not a wisp left outside.

Yuuri gasped, sitting back and watching. There was no movement. Did he need to get a healer? Would getting the soul back and woven into him right not be enough?

Then Victor’s eyes flew open. They were just as blue as Yuuri remembered, the sky on a warm day in the middle of all this freezing weather. Victor started coughing. Yuuri scrambled to get him on his side until all of the water in his lungs spilled out of his mouth, trickling back to the river.

And then he went quiet.

“V-Victor?” Yuuri murmured. “Are you all right?”

Victor didn’t make a sound.

When Yuuri turned him back over, Victor’s eyes were closed again, his breathing shallow and ragged. Even with his power worn as it was, Yuuri could tell that it hadn’t been enough. Victor had been in freezing water and had _drowned_. Just shoving his soul back inside his body wouldn’t keep him outside of the pools of the dead for long.

That left him with only two options, as he saw it. Yuuri could take Victor back down to the Underworld and get a healer there to help him. He knew they could help him so long as he wasn’t mortally wounded anymore, and Yuuri had made sure he wasn’t. But they would take him as a prisoner. He would be a tool to use against the Overworld, and his parents would also know Victor’s mortal weakness. He could be killed again.

Or… he could make his way to the palace. They’d have healers there, for sure, probably better than anyone in the Underworld. He’d have a better chance of recovering sooner, maybe even instantly, and he wouldn’t be held hostage.

Yuuri, however, would.

He was the son of Death, heir to the title. He was valuable. He knew his parents and maybe even Minako would fight to get him back home, but it would be at a cost. Hopefully no one would die, but it couldn’t be guaranteed. He didn’t know Yakov as anyone but the enemy, the man who made Victor fight despite him not wanting to.

And yet… It wasn’t even a choice, really. Not when Yuuri had torn himself ragged, tears frozen in trails down his cheeks. He knew full well the lengths that he would go to in order to save Victor. And maybe he’d somehow find a way to escape.

Despite the fact that he was drained more than he’d ever been before in his life, and the fact that Yakov was an ancient power that could do things he couldn’t even dream of. There was a chance. Maybe.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to shove his frozen arms beneath Victor, wrapping numb fingers into his clothes, and hefted him up. He stumbled back, nearly toppling over. Victor was _heavy_. And he was so stiff, barely moving in Yuuri’s arms despite the fact that he should have been limp. His clothes were absolutely frozen, melting against Yuuri’s warm chest and making him shiver.

But there was no time to think about any of that. No time to consider how absolutely exhausted he was, that he was certain he was going to drop Victor at any second. This wasn’t a choice. None of this was really a choice.

Yuuri trudged through the snow, one halting footstep at a time, trying to make himself move faster, but sure he’d collapse if he did. He ignored the sharp ache in his whole body, instead focusing on the shallow breaths that Victor took, the steady, if maybe slow, beats of his heart.

Then the palace was in from of him, towering.

There were gods out front, and they rushed toward Yuuri. He in turn reached out with shadows, the simplest thing he could think of, but it still made him scream. The guards stopped in their tracks, not moving any closer to the edge of the darkness as if unsure how to move through it. Or perhaps they saw Death in them, the loved ones who had perished, their own mortal weakness. Either way, Yuuri got into the palace. And he kept moving, scaring away gods as he dragged himself and Victor dripping across rich rugs.

He didn’t even know where he was heading until he was in the throne room.

Yakov was there. Yuuri’d never seen him in person, he’d hoped that he never would, but he recognized him from books and lessons. And now he was glaring at Yuuri—or rather, his shadows.

He dropped them, gasping in a breath as the pain in his body screamed with the power it had used. He fell to his knees, clutching Victor to him as he tried desperately to breathe.

“What is the meaning of this?” Yakov’s voice boomed through the hall, echoing across the distant ceiling.

Yuuri looked up and met his eyes despite the tears and snot running down his face, despite the fact that he clutched one of Yakov’s gods to his chest.

“P-please,” Yuuri sobbed as his teeth chattered. “Please save him!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone’s wondering if Yuuri’s telling his story in this much detail to Mari: he isn’t. He’s not cutting anything important, but he’s not going to repeat every single word, especially while he’s exhausted and hurt. But I like my readers, and so you get all the gory details.
> 
> ~~Pls don’t kill me~~
> 
> So! Tumblr!! _This is fine!!!_ If you follow me on Tumblr you know I play a word game every Friday while I’m editing the next day’s chapter (guess a word, and if it’s in the next chapter, I’ll give you the sentence it’s in), but my blog has 40k posts. I’m sure some things are flagged, without question, so my account will probably be murdered come the 17th. So, if you want to keep up with me and my screaming about this pic among other things, my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) is now much more fandom oriented, and I have [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9) account from back in the very early days. I know neither of them have anonymous options, but I’ll be looking for a way around that once Tumblr’s gone. (Maybe that curiouscat site? Or even a Discord server so it isn't public, but idk how many people would want to join an author server for _me_. Or we could just stick with PF and Twitter. If anyone has any opinions, hit me with ‘em!)
> 
> *long sigh*
> 
> Thank you soooooo much to [Addy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrianna99/pseuds/Adrianna99) for hopping in to help beta last minute, and to Blue for helping out too! This chapter was an absolute disaster. And thank you everyone who’s still reading this fic!!! <3 <3 <3
> 
> Also, here’s the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxug), as usual.


	13. XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning (if you’ve read the tags and aren’t concerned, you can skip this to avoid spoilers):  
> That suicide mention comes into play. We won’t talk about exactly what happened—you’ve already seen all you’ll see—but if you aren’t comfortable reading, I’ll have a short summary at the end of my end note so you can skip this chapter entirely.

Yakov stood in a movement that was oddly graceful for someone of his stature, and strode down a series of steps that led to his throne.

In any other situation, Yuuri would have been terrified out of his mind, sobbing for an entirely different reason, mind and voice utterly useless. But Yuuri had a goal, and he wouldn’t let anyone stop him from achieving it. Even if that someone was Life itself.

Yakov came closer, walking straight toward the two of them.

Yuuri clutched Victor to his chest, huddling over him and trying to glare at Yakov. The chattering teeth, frozen hair and clothes, and flushed, tear-streaked cheeks probably didn’t help his case, but he damn well tried.

“Let me see him.” Yakov stopped in front of him, glowering down at how Yuuri’s hands clutched Victor. “If you want to help, let me see him.”

For a moment, Yuuri considered not doing so. Everything in him screamed to _run_ , to get away from Yakov and take Victor with him. This man had been his family’s enemy for his entire existence, short as that may have been, and the knowledge that he had tried to kill countless Underworld gods sung in Yuuri’s bones. But _he_ was the one that had brought Victor to that palace, _he_ had made that choice, and now that was what he had to live with.

Even if he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to live.

Yuuri slowly uncurled his frozen arms, wincing as shivers wracked his sore muscles, everything about him desperately aching and burning—but he shoved aside the pain and focused instead on Victor. Despite his freezing skin, there was a touch more color to Victor’s face, the slightest hint of pink instead of the dead white that had been there before. Victor’s chest stuttered as it rose with a breath, but he was _breathing_. Yuuri nearly sobbed.

Yakov knelt down and reached out in slow movements, placing a hand on Victor’s forehead. Yuuri tried to keep himself still, but the chills just wouldn’t _stop_. It was warm in the palace, he could feel it in the way that his skin prickled painfully as feeling slowly started to return to him—but it wasn’t enough, not when he felt so raw and ragged.

It was only a few seconds before Yakov’s hand jerked back, eyes wide as he looked at Yuuri. “You did this.”

It wasn’t a question, but Yuuri nodded anyway—if the ancient god could even make out the movement beyond his trembling.

Yakov rose to his feet, turning to someone at the side of the room. “Take Victor and get the best healer you can. Leave this boy and me alone, we have some things to discuss.”

Yuuri bent down over Victor, shielding him with his body. A part of him knew that he was being ridiculous, he’d just made peace with the fact that _this_ was why he’d come here. But he couldn’t bring himself to let Victor go.

“Boy, you have to release him so they can heal him.”

Yuuri shook his head, feeling like a child in a way he hadn’t in _years_. “I… I wanna make sure he’s safe.”

There was a sigh from above him. “You obviously need some healing yourself. I’ll have you taken to him, but only after we talk.”

It was fair. Overly fair. Almost as if he didn’t know who Yuuri was yet, despite the fact that he was the only one capable of doing anything close to whatever the hell he’d done to Victor. It could all change in a second, Yakov could just be looking for a way to get Victor away from him—not that he could have put up much resistance to force, if they decided to yank Victor from Yuuri’s arms.

With a deep breath Yuuri sat back upright, head spinning a little. Hands immediately wrapped around Victor, tugging him away from Yuuri. He choked back a sob as the weight left him, Victor’s limp body swiftly taken from sight. It was ridiculous. He had no claim to Victor, but he was… he was just so important to Yuuri. Hopefully this showed Yakov that, hopefully he would have a reason to talk to Victor and to thank him.

“You tore apart your power.”

Yakov’s voice snapped Yuuri from his thoughts.

“I… what?” He knew it had to sound ridiculous, talking to a god like Yakov the way that he was. He knew how to talk properly, but his brain just couldn’t grasp the proper words right then.

“You might have lost some of yourself, doing whatever you did. If not, it wouldn’t take much more to break yourself permanently. I don’t even need to touch you to see how frayed you are.” Yakov narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing in the Overworld.”

“There was, um, a s-spirit. Here. In the O-overworld I had to reap it—oh no.” Yuuri raised his hands to his face, eyes widening. “I haven’t g-g-gotten it yet.” And if Yakov killed him, he wouldn’t be able to. How would the spirit ever find peace? Why couldn’t he stop messing things up?

“Ah.” Yakov let out a breath, shoulders falling a fraction. “Makkachin. That was why…” He narrowed his eyes at Yuuri. “Then how did you find Victor?”

“It… his soul. I saw another fresh s-soul, and followed it. H-he had drowned in the r-river and I-I saved him.”

Yakov’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, the expression almost comical. “You _what_?”

“I…” Yuuri tried to wrap his mind around another way to say it, to explain it, but the trembling of his body felt as though it was knocking his thoughts straight out of his grasp. Why couldn’t he just _warm up_?

“No, I know what you said, boy.” Yakov ran a hand through his hair—what little of it there was, anyway. “But that’s…”

“Um, r-resurrection? It, uh. I don’t know how i-it happened.” A powerful shiver wracked through Yuuri as the cold and the snow and the dead flesh flashed through his mind. “B-but I’m going to be Death. And I-I couldn’t let him…”

Yakov’s eyes bored into him. “No Death has ever been able to reverse natural consequence.”

For one brief, blessed second, the cold fled Yuuri’s body as he faced Life himself head-on. “I would never let Victor die.”

There was a long stretch of quiet as Yakov assessed him, and Yuuri’s shivering came back as horrible as it had been before. After long enough that Yuuri began to think that maybe he should just run out of the palace while he had the chance, Yakov spoke. “I’ll get you to a room.”

Yuuri reached out toward Yakov, toward the sleeves of his robes and the patterns there that his exhausted eyes couldn’t make out. “I-I’ll see Victor?”

Yakov snorted softly. “After what you’ve done, you’ve earned the right to make sure he’s okay, even if he’s not of your domain. Besides, it looks like I’ll be making some contacts. I don’t know if you’re aware of what you’ve done, boy, but this is greater than just you and him.” He made a gesture in the air, and suddenly there were arms around Yuuri, helping him up and moving his stumbling feet away from Yakov.

Well, it was something that Yakov wasn’t killing him. And the fact that he was letting him see Victor. But… what did it mean? The son of Death saving one of Life’s most precious gods should mean something, but it meant nothing to Yuuri then. The only thing that mattered to him was making sure this was all worth something, that Victor was okay.

He was seated on a chair, teeth chattering so hard he had trouble concentrating on anything. He heard muttering about how Winter had gone too far that year, that his magic had started to seep too deeply into the gods it touched, but Yuuri didn’t care about what they were saying when there was finally _warmth_. He stopped shivering, and his eyes finally focused, and—

Victor was in the room with him.

He was on a cot of sorts, so it probably wasn’t his room, but there was a lovely flush to his cheeks, his breathing slow and relaxed.

“He’ll be fine, little one.” There was only one god in the room now, and she patted Yuuri’s shoulder gently. “You should probably start heading home. I’m sure your parents are worried about you.”

Yuuri glanced up at her, wincing at the rawness of his muscles. Did she know where home was for him? “I… I’d like to make sure he wakes up. Please.”

She shook her head, but smiled. “Sure. Just make sure to rest up when you get home, okay? You seriously strained yourself, and anything more might make the damage irreversible. You may be resilient, but don’t push it.”

Yuuri nodded, vaguely relieved as the nurse left and he was alone with Victor. It was amazing that they trusted Yuuri to be alone with him. Although he had saved Victor’s life, what if it had been an elaborate ruse? What if he’d been lying?

Something deep in Yuuri admitted that Yakov would have instantly seen through a lie that absurd. Who could just resurrect someone?

Well, Yuuri could. Apparently.

His eyelids grew heavier and heavier as time wore on, drooping down as the warmth of the room made the air almost heavy, his breaths slower and slower. He kept jolting awake in a weird, hazy, half-dream state. The day didn’t seem real. Victor didn’t seem real. Hell, _Yuuri_ didn’t seem real right then, his thoughts muffled and stilted in his own head.

At least until a rustle in the otherwise silent room jolted the exhaustion from Yuuri’s body.

Victor sat up slowly but smoothly, as if he didn’t ache like the way Yuuri did right then.

“What…?” Victor’s voice was soft and muffled by sleep, and it was deeper than Yuuri remembered, but it stirred something warm in his chest. “I don’t…” He froze, eyes glancing around the room. “M-Makka.”

Yuuri frowned at the mention of that name, so similar to what Yakov had mentioned, but there wasn’t time to think about it. Victor curled in on himself and let out a sob so loud and so aching that it rattled Yuuri’s bones and brought tears to his eyes despite knowing nothing about what caused it.

Yuuri leapt to his feet, limping toward the bed on sore, aching feet, before awkwardly placing a hand onto Victor’s back. “I-It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Victor’s eyes shot to his, the blue just as sharp as Yuuri remembered, if his memory could ever do him justice. His eyes leaked and his voice broke as he managed, “What? Who the hell are you?”

Yuuri’s heart dropped, shattering at his feet. He… he didn’t remember. Of course he wouldn’t. Yuuri had just been a kid, a slightly pudgy nobody who could barely work with life to help Victor weave spring. He should have expected this.It wasn’t important to Victor, it never meant as much as it did to Yuuri. Of course.

“I-I’m… visiting.” Yuuri blinked back tears— _he_ wasn’t the one who had drowned. He shouldn’t cry. “And I saw you had… well, you had been in the river. So I… brought you back.”

“You _what_?” Victor’s eyes widened.

Yuuri tried to smile, to seem kind, but he knew it was a broken thing. “You were gone, but now you’re back. And you’re safe, the healers say that you—”

Victor latched onto Yuuri’s robes, yanking him closer with such a jolt that Yuuri cried out as his body screamed and burned. But that wasn’t what made his tears overflow. No, Victor’s eyes, which he’d assumed were shocked or scared, had taken on a new tone as his mouth sneered.

He was angry. Livid.

“I _wanted_ to die, you asshole!” Victor screamed so loud that the room rang with it, echoed the words as they stabbed through Yuuri’s head. “Without Makka, she… she was all I had left and she’s _dead_ and now I can’t even die? You selfish son of a…” he choked off into a sob as his head bowed.

Yuuri could only stare. Gods, _no_. He… he at worst thought Victor would be a little weirded out by what’d happened, but he couldn’t have imagined this. He didn’t know what to do. What to _think_. He’d… he’d wanted to die? But what would the world be without Victor, without Spring? If Yuuri hadn’t been there to drag him back, he would never again have felt the drip of Victor’s magic to the Underworld, never again would have able to laugh and dance in a new season…

But that wasn’t an option anymore, was it?

Victor lifted Yuuri closer, his feet rising off the floor as those pale blue eyes bore into him. “I _hate_ you. I hate everything here. I just wanted to fucking get away from it, but _you_.” He spat the word with such venom that Yuuri shivered. “You want me to go on without even Makkachin to live for? Fuck you.”

He tossed Yuuri away, pain jolting through him as his feet hit the ground, legs collapsing underneath him. He bit back his cry with a sob.

“Get out of my sight,” Victor growled. “I never want to see you again.”

Yuuri crawled to his feet, his body shaking with something much deeper than the cold. He ran. He ran and he ran, passing by dozens of gods in the golden hallways before his legs gave out, and he _sobbed_. He’d screwed up. But when he thought back, he wouldn’t have changed anything. He _couldn’t_. If it was a choice between a universe with or without Victor, how could he ever choose the latter? But he… he wanted…

Makkachin.

The name choked back one of Yuuri’s sobs, giving him a break. Victor said her being dead meant he didn’t have a reason to go on. So if he could bring her back, then Yuuri wouldn’t have screwed anything up. He would have made it all better.

He crawled back to his feet, using the wall for support as he stumbled forward. He couldn’t see the spirit anymore, but he could certainly _feel_ it. Phichit always lamented about how jealous he was of Yuuri’s ability to feel souls so intensely, dragging him along on particularly dangerous or hard cases. For the first time in his life, Yuuri was grateful for it, too.

His feet were more stable under him as he left the palace, his protection wrapping around him so that no god noticed his movements toward the trail of the green soul. It led him to a graveyard to the side of the palace. How _strange_. They never buried the dead in the Underworld, they just spread ashes across the mountains, over the pools. The souls and ashes would move on, just like everyone else would. But there wasn’t enough time to think more about it, not then. He went to the freshest grave, reaching out and delicately pulling the old soul down. For a long moment he considered digging up the grave, but with the decomposition… maybe he could make do without it. The souls were strongest at the pools, he just had to go home.

Making sure that the soul was affixed to him, he quickly worked on transportation, and checked at least three times before letting his power seep into it. And it _burned_. He could barely force down his screaming as the darkness came and left, leaving him on the damp, chill dirt at the border of the pools, far from the mountain’s edge. Already the soul at his side was more vibrant, shimmering in the moist air.

Gods, if something so simple tore at him like that, could he bring back this Makka? He ran his fingers along the side of the soul, and nearly fell over. It was… a mortal? A _dog_? What would Victor have been doing with a dog from the mortal realm? This soul had obviously passed from old age, and Yuuri couldn’t see any effort to extend the poor thing’s life. Perhaps that was something Victor couldn’t do—other gods would have made messengers of a mortal creature, attaching theirs lives to the creatures. But had Spring really needed anything like that?

Yuuri shook his head. It didn’t matter. What did matter was Makka’s soul was regaining energy, and it could only hold onto it for so long. It would eventually fade away in any other realm, so he couldn’t hold it there.

It was now or never.

He knew how to dance death, and he knew how to dance spring. This couldn’t be that different, right?

His breaths rough with pain, Yuuri took a few steps away from the edge of the pool, and then he began to move, weaving Makka’s soul around him, begging it to take the form it had once had.

It hurt worse than anything he’d ever felt before. There were no words for it. It was as if he was being pulled apart, skin from muscle, muscle peeled from bone, bones wrenched from joints. His blood boiled, acidic in his veins. He cried and he screamed as he moved, but he never let go of his purpose, what he was dancing for.

Until, at last, something was torn from deep within him, worse than anything he’d ever felt in his life. His vision was gone, ears ringing, lungs too small and burning too much to breathe properly. Slowly, his senses started to come back and _gods_ he wish they hadn’t. Everything was pain. There was no escape. Nothing to make it better.

Something warm and wet brushed Yuuri’s cheek, and he sucked in a breath as it sent a jolt of pain through his head.

Then there was a whine.

Yuuri blinked up at a mass of brown fur and large, kind eyes. She looked so soft. Except for maybe the scales that grew on her in patches, a little like the lizards that lived in the trees and drank from the pool of the dead. But she was here. Whatever and however Yuuri had hurt himself, it was worth it. He’d done it.

Hissing at the pain, he worked on making the transportation circle without moving an inch, but… but something was in the way. Through pain-muddled thoughts, he tried to make sense of it, but he couldn’t, it was as if…

It was Makka.

She couldn’t leave the land of the dead, something was broken in her.

Yuuri moved in short jerky movements, somehow holding out a hand that Makka immediately butted up against, flopping onto him and jostling him to the point he was seeing stars again. But he could fix this. Obviously Victor wasn’t stuck down here after what Yuuri did. He twitched his fingers through her fur, and reached inside himself. He just had to figure out what was wrong, he had the power to work with life, after all.

Except, he didn’t. When he reached for that place in him that danced with every spring, that brought his garden life and growth, it was raw, and it was empty. Torn. The feeling of having something ripped away from him flashed through Yuuri’s mind, along with Yakov’s warning.

A sob clawed up Yuuri’s throat as his fingers clutched at Makkachin’s fur. She cuddled closer, whining a bit. Yuuri didn’t deserve to be comforted, but he couldn’t push her away right then.

He’d fucked up.

 _He_ was a fuck up.

Victor hated him, and he had every right to after his dog was dead. Yuuri had absolutely no one to blame except himself.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there for, but that was where someone found him—he couldn’t remember who. They were trying to get him for peace talks, of all things. He’d made it happen by accident. The war was ending, because of the kindness the son of Death had shown. But was it really a kindness, when Victor was in such pain? Yakov couldn’t have known. No one could have known. And Yuuri knew exactly why; it wouldn’t be suitable for Spring, of all gods, to have thoughts like that, to react like that.

Yuuri wished he could go to Victor, to explain, to beg him to see Makkachin, but all he could think of every time he came close was that anger and horrible sadness that had changed Victor’s face into something unrecognizable. He hated Yuuri. But… if that kept him alive, that was all right.

It took months for Yuuri to recover, Makka staying at his side the whole time, reminding him of his guilt. And yet she was the greatest comfort he had despite that. But he did recover. The pain of the life ripped from him faded. It didn’t sting anymore, instead the aching hollowness in him became a familiar companion to his broken soul.

But other things didn’t heal so easily.

After that day, he no longer peeked at the flower buried in a book in his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, friendly reminder that Yuuri himself has said nothing makes sense multiple times (though maybe now that you know, _you_ might make sense of a few things).
> 
> Second off, I know that I’ve asked you guys to trust me with a LOT with this story! And this is yet another thing to add to that list!!! But let me tell you that I do not take this lightly and I absolutely hate when fanfics are all, “Oh, they met their romantic interest and now they’re better without any treatment or even really addressing the issue!” A good person in with life won’t fix you, but may help you fix yourself. And hoo boy do we have some growing to do before Victor’s ready to fix himself. And he’s not going to be magically forgiven because of this—there are other things going on to justify how extreme his actions are, but he’s still put Yuuri through hell. (Haha, through hell. Get it.) But!!! Congrats, we’re onto part two now? We’ve got more twists coming down the road, but this was probably the darkest part.
> 
> If anything in this chapter was triggering for you and you need to talk to someone, please [don’t be afraid to call one of these numbers—it’s an international list.](http://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines)
> 
> As an apology for this chapter (and because I hit 1.5k followers on Twitter, eyyyy), I’m writing a short, three-chapter fluff fic [you can check out over here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16979343)? Please don’t murder me?? Pls???
> 
> Thank you so much to [Addy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrianna99/pseuds/Adrianna99) and [AceMoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet) for betaing the last hellish past tense chapter! And thank YOU guys for trusting me and continuing to read this crazy rollercoaster of a fic. :’D All of you comments and kudos mean to world to me! <3
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat (an ask site that’s like Tumblr (RIP) with an anon function)](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) (Anyone can rec a song onto the playlist!)
> 
>  
> 
>  **Chapter Summary:** After much protesting on Yuuri’s part, Victor is taken away and separated from Yuuri so that Victor can get healed, and Yuuri can chat with Yakov. After it’s semi-established that Yuuri’s actions will broker peace between the Underworld and the Overworld, Yuuri’s taken to Victor’s side where he spends some time thinking. Victor wakes up and gets angry, grabbing Yuuri’s shirt. He’d wanted to die because Makkachin had passed away, and wants Yuuri to leave. Yuuri’s heartbroken, but does as Victor demands. He then reaps Makka’s soul, and brings it down to the Underworld to revive her—but in doing so, permanently destroys his ability to create life, and can’t even bring Makka back to the Overworld. He’s achieved peace, but at a cost steeper than he ever could have imagined.


	14. XIV

Silence echoes through Yuuri’s room like it’s physical, pressing in on both him and Mari and making them both mute. But he knows better than to think it will last forever. It brews in the room like a storm until Mari can’t contain it anymore.

“Well, that explains a lot.” Mari sighs, a frown curling her lips. “And nothing at all.”

Yuuri grimaces. “Tell me about it.”

“Gods, it’s been… _so_ long, and he still wants you dead?” Mari’s hands curl into fists.

Yuuri looks down at his sheets, wincing as the movement sends a tremor of pain down his neck and back. At least it really isn’t as bad as it was the first time. “I’m an obstacle, or so he thinks. And I won’t correct him.”

Mari snorts. “What, to his death?” She recoils a bit as Yuuri meets her gaze, eyes cold. “Oh. That… Well, then what the fuck are his friends doing, helping him?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know.” Yuuri resists the urge to throw his hands up, knowing only pain will come of it. “I was thinking they must not know the truth, but what awful lie could they have believed? I have my shortcomings, but are they really enough for my friends to want me _dead_?” Yuuri’s voice breaks over the word.

Mari reaches out, placing her hand on his. There’s a soft boof from the floor, and Makka jumps up on the bed.

Yuuri laughs, even as he winces from the jostling, waving off Mari as she tries to get Makka down.

“Oh, what a good girl, waiting in here with me,” Yuuri coos as he runs his fingers through her fur. He catches the way Mari looks at Makka, the furrow on her brow as she considers the unthinkable. It isn’t as if it hadn’t occurred to him, too. His power is broken, bits and pieces of it burrowed in Victor and Makka, but taking them back would mean… He shakes his head. No. He wouldn’t do it, he honestly couldn’t, and he wouldn’t want it. Not having his power over life… well, that still stings. That wound will never go away—it’s no wonder Yakov had to tear another part of him free when he’s already so messed up inside. And really, how bad is it that he can’t leave? He has an entire realm, it isn’t as if he’ll be cramped.

Even if he can already feel the walls pressing closer.

Dammit, he’s supposed to be one of the most powerful gods out there, and yet…

“Yuuri, I know that expression.” Mari leans forward, poking him in the cheek so gently he hardly feels any pain. “What are you thinking?”

“I… I’m so broken. I haven’t ever felt like Death, and now I can’t even go and meet with Yakov if I need to. I couldn’t even _reap_ if I wanted to. And it’s not like I could do anything else, either.” Yuuri takes a shaky breath, looking away. “And with Victor? I’m just so tired of everything. He doesn’t want help, he just wants… Well, you know. Maybe it’s time you took over being Death.”

She’s only quiet for a short moment, even if it seems like a lifetime. “Yuuri, you know I can’t.”

Yuuri snorts. “Yeah, you could. You can speak to the dead. It’s why you’re such a good Reaper.”

Mari narrows her eyes. “You and I both know I could never do what you can.”

“No, that’s not true.” Yuuri glares right back.

Mari meets his eyes. “Yes, it is. And you know I have no issues saying what I can and cannot do.”

Yuuri looks down, feeling like they’re at an impossible impasse. Mari’s just as stubborn as he is when he makes his mind up, but why can’t she just _see_?

“I can’t dance to them like you do. I know you don’t think you’re that good at it, but you’re better than Mom was.”

“No, I’m—“

“ _Yes_ , yes you are, and don’t make me call her here to tell you that herself.”

Yuuri snaps his mouth shut. “You wouldn’t.”

“I won’t.” Mari leans back, rolling her eyes. “But I _should_.”

“Why? What’s she going to do other than worry? I can’t kill Victor even if I wanted to, it would literally undo the thing I did to _stop_ the war. Yakov knows about what’s happening, but what can he do? We can’t just undo the peace treaty, and if word gets out about what Victor’s up to, it’ll be just as bad as me killing him. Yakov and I can try and dissuade the other gods from getting upset over what’s happening, but you know that’s impossible. Neither of us could stop hundreds of gods feeling betrayed by the ones who made the treaty happen in the first place.” Yuuri sighs. He achieved what he’d dreamed of doing his whole childhood, and even some of his adulthood, but at the cost of something infinitely precious to him. It’s odd that Victor’s convinced his retinue that Yuuri must be murdered. But what might be even weirder is that Victor doesn’t care about the war anymore, about the pointless fighting and murder of mortals and gods. Yuuri can wrap his mind around why Victor would want him gone—unfortunately—but his methods yank the little that Yuuri knew of him right out from beneath his feet. It’s as if he’s an entirely different person now.

Well, no. There are hints of who Victor used to be when he has Makkachin near him—the softness of his gaze, when the blue there looks more like vast skies that Yuuri could drown in as opposed to shards of ice that tear away at everything they look at.

But, gods, he wants Yuuri dead so desperately that he came down to the Underworld and risked falling into an eternal coma. Why the hell had his friends supported him in that?

Or… had they?

“What about Phichit, Minami and Chris? What are they doing?” Yuuri winces at the sudden topic change, knowing Mari won’t let it go for long. It’s not like it was on purpose—he just woke up, and his brain is still murky. “And how long was I out?”

Mari narrows her eyes, but doesn’t push. “Only a month, shorter than with Makkachin. I can’t believe I didn’t know… Anyway, Chris went back up to take care of Victor—or, I assume he did. He doesn’t talk to anyone down here, I’ve never seen a man glare so much. His face is going to get stuck like that. Minami and Phichit are still down here, though. Minami’s actually been dancing for the dead. And Yurio’s helping out too?” She’s quiet after the question, raising an eyebrow at Yuuri.

Yuuri shrugs, wincing a bit. “I dunno. Yurio said he wanted to keep an eye on Minami after he came back and I let him start his apprenticeship again, but he’s definitely more interested in it than that. I catch him practicing all the time—he’s not subtle.”

Mari whistles. “And he’s actually pretty good at it too, from what I’ve seen. Don’t tell him I said that, though.”

Yuuri grins. Gods, he’d be tempted to. Mari and Yurio are like cats and dogs whenever they're together, their odd ways of showing affection constantly clashing. But it’s hilarious to watch.

“But, uh, you’ve gotta explain why you let Minami get so close to you again. I know he was a sweet kid, but he _is_ trying to help get you killed.” Mari scowls.

“He’s… different.” Yuuri frowns, trying to find the right words for it. “Phichit and Chris are unrepentant. Chris is just angry for whatever reason, and if he’s not egging me on, Phichit is just bitter. But Minami doesn’t do _anything_. He’s tried to tell me what’s going on, but he keeps getting caught. It’s like they know he’s their weakness and they’re keeping an eye on him.”

“So you’re trying to weasel out information from him?” Mari cocks an eyebrow. “That’s pretty intense, for you.”

Yuuri lets out another breath, feeling as if all he’s been doing is sighing. “That was the original plan, but… He’s mostly just my apprentice again. I can’t get anything out of him if he won’t say anything. It’s almost like…” Almost like when he’s with Minami, it’s as if Yuuri’s younger again. Back before he was a broken failure, back when he had dreams he thought were impossible—but in reality, they had a price so steep that Yuuri wouldn’t have wanted them anymore if he’d known. Back when he’d thought he understood the people he called his friends. “What about Phichit?”

“He’s here, but… he’s weird.” The scowl on Mari’s face changes, and if Yuuri didn’t know any better, he’d say she looks almost _concerned_. “He’s so quiet. He was never quiet before. He just watches everything going on, and seems so confused. I wasn’t here, but according to Yurio, it started after the lot of them learned you saved Victor’s life. Not in so many words, of course, but anyway. Chris tried to argue before storming off, and Minami asked about you, but Phichit seems to have just gone mute.”

Yuuri resists the urge to rub his forehead, knowing the jolt of pain wouldn’t be worth it. What the hell is going on here?

“So.” Mari takes a breath, crossing her arms. “I know you just woke up, but I won’t be able to stay around for much longer. You know what being a Reaper is like. Once you’re feeling better, we’ve got to talk about what’s going to happen next, because we both know Victor won’t give up this easily, _especially_ since you just gave him an eternity to keep trying.”

“I-I’m sorr—”

“If you’re about to apologize for saving someone, even if that someone’s an asshole, shut your mouth.” Mari sighs. “I don't think he’s worth it, and I know we’ll regret it, but you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t so kind. We just have to figure out what to do before he gets back.”

Yuuri hangs his head, smiling a little. “Thank you, Mari.”

“Of course, little bro.” She reaches out, ruffling his hair softly. “I’m always here for you.”

Yuuri doesn’t know what he’d ever done to deserve his family, but he’s overcome with feeling unworthy and grateful at the same time. He has to keep them from being caught up in this mess. Whatever this mess is. Though, if figuring out what’s going on is the problem…

Well, Yakov _does_ owe him a few favors.

“Mari.” Yuuri sits up a little straighter. “Do you know if—?”

The door slams open, startling Yuuri so badly that he almost falls over. Mari, however, just rolls her eyes.

“Katsudon!” Something flies across the room, leaping up onto the bed, and crashing onto Yuuri’s chest.

Yuuri cries out, his head spinning with the burning, scraping pain, and the pressure lightens even if it doesn’t entirely leave.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again, do you hear me, you asshole?”

It takes a few seconds for Yuuri to be able to breathe with minimal pain, for his eyes to be able to focus. Mari’s still in the chair, but there are three other people in the room. Mila’s clutching Sara to her side, Sara’s hands over her own mouth—and then there’s Yurio, who flung himself onto the bed and now has his head buried in Yuuri’s chest.

Tears spring to Yuuri’s eyes, his breath coming shallow for a whole other reason as he reaches up and runs his fingers through Yurio’s hair, ignoring the sparking pain the motion causes. “I’m sorry, Yurio.”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me, I know you’d do it again.” Yurio’s voice is muffled in Yuuri’s shirt, but it doesn’t stop him.

“Well, I am sorry for making you worry.” Yuuri tries to force away the memory of Yurio’s distress over Victor the other day, to push his pity to the side. He knows that admitting he’d do it all again would be too cruel. He knows how hard the young god’s tried to protect him. But he knows he’s not alone in being a fool, at least.

“Don’t be sorry.” Sara sniffs. “It’s just good to see you awake. We’ve all been so worried, when Yuuko found you we all worried that Victor had finally…”

Yuuri winces. Poor Yuuko, he’d have to apologize to her personally. “It’s all right, this isn’t the first time. I’ll get better, it’ll just take time.”

The lot of them exchange a look, making Yuuri wish that he could fidget without being in so much pain. Though that’s a distraction too, he supposes.

“What happened?” Mila finally takes the plunge. “Yurio was all shaken up—”

“What the fuck? No, I wasn’t, I was in shock at having a dead body dragged into my room in the middle of the night.” Yurio sits up, leaping off the bed and jabbing a finger at Mila. “Stop telling lies.”

Yuuri bites back a grin, knowing full well who’s lying. His face that night… Yuuri’s never seen Yurio act anything like that before. He never wants to see it again.

He takes a sobering breath. “He wasn’t dead, Yurio.” Not that time, at least.

“Well, that’s beside the point!” Sara snaps, drawing everyone’s eyes. “Yurio, stop distracting. And Yuuri, don’t avoid the topic. You two are such a pair.”

Yuuri scowls. He wasn’t _avoiding_ it. He just… well, he probably would’ve started avoiding it if they gave him enough time. “What do you want to know?”

“What happened between you showing up at Yurio’s door with a not-quite-dead body, and then you becoming one yourself.” Mila juts out her chin, her tone and her eyes quite clearly stating that this is not a question, it’s a demand.

And, really, Yuuri owes his only real friends this much. “Apparently being in the Underworld was draining at Victor’s lifeforce. He thought he had longer, but…” Yuuri lets his eyes drift shut for a moment, the exhaustion suddenly much too heavy to fight right then. Gods, he hates to think how easy it would have been to just leave Victor like that. Now Victor will be coming back. Well, assuming he’s even woken up. He hates the way his heart both sinks and races at the prospect of being free. But, the worlds without Victor’s spring would just… he’d just…

“Okay, that’s how you ended up scaring the hell out of Yurio,” Mila interrupts his thoughts, although not unkindly. His fight against sleep must be showing on his face. “He said that he sent you over directly into Yakov’s chambers, to get Victor fixed up, right? So how did you end up, well… you know. Did Yakov do this on purpose?”

Yuuri’s mouth falls open. “No! No. I, uh. I offered to do this. It was my choice.” Cosmos, if Yakov did this on purpose, there would be a war, at least. Honestly, Yuuri would be lucky to only have this injury after going head to head with Life himself. On top of being weaker, he’s so much younger than Yakov. For all Yuuri knows, Yakov was the first, and may be the last, Life. Yuuri will most definitely not be the last Death, especially if Victor succeeds. It’s not like Victor doesn’t have the means, especially now that he can survive in the Underworld. Yuuri might have only been winning as often in the fencing matches as he had been because Victor was so weak. And now… Yuuri sighs. “Yakov knows. About Victor. He wasn’t angry about anything, he was more surprised, honestly.”

“No shit.” Yurio snorts. “You should’ve left Victor like that.”

It’s not as if Yuuri knows that Yurio wouldn’t ever actually mean that, but it still stings. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the fact that he wishes he had done it, or that he doesn’t even want Yurio to suggest the notion of it. If anything, he’d say it was both all at once.

“How did you fix him, then?” Sara gently prods the conversation back on topic.

“It… we had to restructure his life force. And I needed to do it, and… it had a price.”

“Why did _you_ have to do that? Aren’t you Death?” Mila’s brow furrows. “Yakov should be more than capable of anything like that, and you…”

And Yuuri hasn’t been able to manipulate life in at least half a century.

“Holy shit.” Yurio’s eyes nearly pop out of his head as he puts two and two together, everyone else staring at the young god like he’s grown a second head.

People tend to underestimate Yurio because of his temper, because of the fact that he’s young, because of the fact that he loses control of his powers when he gets emotional. But Yuuri knows how dangerous it can be to underestimate someone.

“Don’t look at me like that you idiots.” Yurio focuses back in on Yuuri. “He needed you because this wasn’t the first time you messed with Victor, is it? Is that why you lost your powers? Is _this_ why the fucker wants you dead?”

Yuuri sighs, leaning back into his bed and letting his eyes drift closed. Can he really relive this memory twice in one day? Should he? It’s just confusing, and it’s not his business to spread…

Well it’s not Victor’s business to be trying to kill Yuuri, is it?

He snorts softly. Maybe he’s been spending too much time around Yurio. And, well, maybe that’s a good thing.

Something soft and warm brushes Yuuri’s hand, and he’s so exhausted he can’t even register whether it’s painful or not.

“Should I tell them?” Mari’s voice is a whisper in his ear.

If Yuuri lets this group know, the truth will seep out. He could ask them to keep it a secret, but Yurio’s going to be pissed enough that Yuuri knows he can’t count on their silence unless he begs. And he doesn’t want to beg. He doesn’t want to keep almost dying. He wants to know what the hell is going on, and maybe if Victor’s crew knows the truth—assuming they don’t already—maybe he’ll finally get somewhere.

Knowing full well what he’s consenting to, Yuuri manages to nod before falling into a dark, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn’t so bad, right? Right??? ~~I mean, compared to last chapter, at least.~~ Still, in retribution for my angst sins these past few chapters, the last chapter of my short fluff fic goes live tomorrow, in case Yuuri finally getting his much-deserved (if painful) hug wasn’t enough.
> 
> Thank you so much [Addy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrianna99/pseuds/Adrianna99) and Blue for betaing my disasters!!! And thank you everyone out there that’s still reading, somehow? I have no idea how I’ve kept anyone interested for 14 chapter but LET’S HOPE I KEEP IT UP. Seriously, thank you guys. <3
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	15. XV

Yuuri had forgotten how frustrating it was to recover from a broken soul.

Maybe it’s because he was more sad and terrified last time it happened, but this time… it’s different. He still has those emotions lurking in him, of course. If anything he understands _less_ than he did fifty or so years ago. He can throw out guesses about Victor’s motivations, but there are no answers within easy reach, and he knows that if anyone he trusted magically had a breakthrough, he would be the first to know. But he knows nothing, he has no way to feel safe.

All he wants is for Victor to want neither of them dead, but apparently that’s too much to ask.

And that sparks something in him, something that can’t stand to sit still, that can’t bear the thought of asking if anyone’s heard how Victor’s doing, because he isn’t entirely sure what he’s hoping for anymore. He doesn’t regret doing all he could within his power once again, but now that it’s out of his hands, well. He won’t go do battle with Fate, whoever they might be, for Victor.

Luckily no one tries to give him an update. No one even mentions Victor, almost like they’re afraid to mutter his name around Yuuri after learning their history.

It should be a relief, but that’s another thing that crawls slowly beneath Yuuri’s skin, fueling the fire there.

Two weeks pass before Yuuri can finally leave his bed, and they crawl by at a glacial pace.

Yuuko somehow manages to dig out the old cane that Yuuri had used the first time that he ripped himself to bits for an ungrateful Victor, and she refuses to so much as hear his apologies.

“I’m happy that _I_ was the one to find you.” Yuuko grips his hands gently. “Even if it was really, really creepy. Just promise me you won’t do it again?”

He promises, even though they both know full well he’s dumb enough to do it again and again until there’s nothing left.

Sometimes while he wanders the halls, leaning against his cane and the walls to build back his strength, he wonders if that memory of him and Victor dancing in spring was just a dream. But how else did he recognize Victor’s magic so easily in the springs that had followed? How did he know the steps that brought life out of the dead of winter? Without those movements, he wouldn’t have been able to bring back Makka, after all. He wouldn’t have been able to grow his garden.

He goes out into the gardens with Makka often in his wanderings. Not his gardens, but the ones that Takeshi maintains for guests to visit. He can’t look at his anymore, despite Makka trying to lead him over that way, and despite the fact that maybe he’d be able to actually get some peace and quiet over there. It seems like someone always manages to corner him outside, as if they have a nose for when he’s going stir crazy without his ability to travel between the worlds. Sometimes it’s Yurio, Mila, Mari, or Sara, but more often than not it’s Minami that tracks him down.

And Minami doesn’t act any differently. The rumors about Yuuri and Victor’s past have spread far and wide, he wouldn’t be surprised if people on the opposite side of the Underworld have finally learned the full truth behind the origins of the peace treaty. That doesn’t bother Yuuri as much as he thought it might—it’s not like they know the exact truth with rumors mixing into the tale as it spins across the worlds of the gods. But those in the mansion know.

Minami knows.

Yuuri wants to ask, but he doesn’t. A small, selfish part of him wants to pretend Victor doesn’t exist while he has the opportunity to, and not to mention he doesn’t know if this is something that Minami’s not allowed to talk about—after all, Phichit is still around.

But unlike Minami, Phichit seems different.

Without Victor around, he wanders the halls of the mansion, avoiding contact with others at all cost. He’s gone slightly pale, and he’s lost a little weight, despite Yuuko bringing food right to his room. That doesn’t bother Yuuri though, not while the pain writhes and burns beneath his skin. What bothers him is how sometimes Phichit will stand at the edge of his vision, as if wanting to take a step forward and not sure exactly how to do it.

Another week passes like this, in an odd state of limbo. Yuuri’s limping along, wheezing out pained gasps as he forces his body as far as he can with Makka at his side. Maybe he’ll go outside again. Sunrise has come and gone, and it’s past the time that Yurio bickers one-sidedly with Minami as they dance the dead as best they can into the beyond, so he has a higher chance of running into one of them—though maybe he’ll get lucky and find Mari first to scare the younger gods off. At least they can sit in comfortable silence, or Mari can share her plethora of hilarious Reaper horror stories.

Movement flickers in the corner of Yuuri’s eye, and he pauses. There’s nothing down the hallway anymore, but Death will always recognize the aura of one of his gods, and he has been seeing this one far too often.

Yuuri’s mouth twitches down into a frown. This has gone on too long. He reaches inside of himself, pushing past the pain as he draws at his power enough that the hallway darkens a bit, his voice echoing unnaturally as he speaks. “Phichit, enough. If you want something from me ask, directly. You’re a lot of things I never expected you to be, but a coward is not one of them.”

Phichit resists only for a moment, but he is Yuuri’s god, and he’s finished with his “friend” trying to stab him in the back and hiding from the consequences of it. He slinks out from the shadows, like the coward that Yuuri accused him of not being.

The silence stretches on a moment before Yuuri lets go of his power, The hand clutching his cane trembling slightly as a wave of exhaustion hits him. He raises an eyebrow. “What, have you been stalking me for no good reason? Or are you still reporting to a god who isn’t even here?”

“I haven’t been—” Phichit snaps his mouth shut. Another moment passes while Phichit’s eyes search his face, and Yuuri lets him have it. “Are you telling the truth?”

Yuuri blinks. “What? You know that you’re an Underworld god, and that I’m Death. I know you’ve lost sight of your roots, but I didn’t think you’d ever be confused about _that_.”

Phichit scowls. “No, that’s not what I meant. I was talking… about the rumors.”

“Ah.” Yuuri squares his shoulders as best he can. “I did rescue Victor, yes.”

Phichit nods. “Okay. And… the other part?”

Yuuri sucks in a breath, a quiet noise that almost seems to echo through the long halls. He really didn’t know. None of them knew. But if they hadn’t known, why didn’t Phichit confront him the moment the rumors came out? How come Minami hasn’t uttered a word? It’s not as if that kid has a filter on anything other than Victor’s plans. Regardless, this might be able to lead to a few answers. “I rescued Victor, and it was against his will and choice, despite me not knowing that at the time. That’s why the garden is abandoned. And yes, I did it a second time, though this time it wasn’t quite the same thing.”

Phichit scowls, looking at the floor.

Interesting. Maybe Victor told him a partial truth. Yuuri adjusts his grip on the cane, Makkachin’s head quirking at the movement. “Is that not what Victor told you? He kept insisting that you knew the truth.”

“No, that’s not…” Phichit’s scowl deepens as he seems to run out of words. Then he looks up and glares at Yuuri. “He hasn’t lied to me.”

Yuuri almost takes a step back, but barely stops himself. “I never accused him of lying to you. But you know that I’m telling the truth.”

“Yeah.” Phichit spits the word. “I do.”

Now it’s Yuuri’s turn to scowl. “What exactly did he—?”

“Why the fuck do I _always_ find you with one of these losers?” Yurio stomps into the hallway, a slight wind following him as he glares at Phichit.

Phichit doesn’t deign either of them with a response, instead just turning and leaving.

Yuuri bites back a sigh. He wasn’t exactly getting anywhere, and it probably wouldn’t be good to upset Phichit while he can barely walk. “I was trying to get some information.”

Yurio snorts. “Were you getting anywhere?” He grins when Yuuri doesn’t answer. “Thought so.”

“It’s better than nothing.” Yuuri shoots back.

Yurio raises his hands. “Jeez, someone’s cranky today. That’s not what I was saying. I’m just saying it’s not as productive as what you could be doing.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, tapping the back of Yurio's leg lightly with his cane. Of course he thinks he knows better. Now, Yuuri won't say that Yurio's resolutions to conflict wouldn't be the most satisfying conclusions sometimes, but typically things are more complicated than that. “All right, I'll bite, what would you suggest?”

Yurio nibbles his lip for a moment before glancing away from Yuuri.

Dammit all. Yuuri hadn't considered this side effect when he told the story of his past to Mari, but he's already tired of everyone's pity. He made the choices to get himself to this point willingly, and he'd probably do it all over again. Honestly, he thought _he_ obsessed over everything and wasted too much regret on the past, but his friends are putting him to shame. “I didn't mean that I'd literally bite you, Yurio.”

That draws a snort out of him. “Well, fine. You asked for it. I think this whole thing would be cleared right up if you just ripped the life you gave right back out of Victor.”

Yuuri barks a laugh. Of course he'd say that. Even if Yurio doesn't want Victor dead, Yuuri knows that Yurio's long since chosen his side, and it both warms his heart and burns up the back of his throat. He reaches down to ruffle Makka's head, her head cocked as if she can hear the emotions rolling around inside Yuuri. “Oh, I should do that to Victor? Not Makka?”

Yurio gapes at Yuuri, then down at Makka. “What the _fuck_? Of course I wouldn’t _kill_ an innocent fucking dog you absolute heathen.”

A laugh bursts out of Yuuri, burning from the sensitive flesh of Yuuri's lungs until he can't tell if he's crying because of the pain or the laughter. Yuuri, Death incarnate, not just a god but a ruler of gods, a _heathen_.

“Holy shit, you've finally lost your mind.” Yurio huffs as Yuuri only laughs harder. “Whatever. I didn't come here to deal with a senile old man. Minako wants you, said that's it's been too long since you've visited her.”

Ah, he's out of time. The words sober Yuuri right up. He straightens himself up, brushing the tears from his eyes as he leans heavily on his cane. “All right, all right. It's not like I have anything better to do.”

“Fine, whatever. I've done my job, and I’m rescuing your dog from you, you weirdo.” Yurio gives a half-hearted wave for Makka to follow and then strides off, shoving his hands in his pockets as she leaps after him.

He really has no reason to be so loyal to a god like Yuuri, but Yuuri’ll never stop being grateful for Yurio. Yuuri hasn't forgotten the shock and sickness that spread across Yurio's face the first time that he saw Makka was alive once again down here, but somehow, even with Yuuri so ill from reviving her that he couldn't explain himself even if he wanted to, Yurio had made his peace with both Yuuri and Makka. He's never even for a moment doubted Yuuri's side of the story, either.

Well, not that Yuuri's a particularly good liar anyway, but still.

Having caught back some of his breath, Yuuri begins limping back into the depths of the mansion, through the nonsensical paths that he knows better than the back of his own hands.

“Yuuri!” Minako greets as he pushes open the door to her chambers. “Good to finally see you.”

Yuuri sighs, sitting down in his usual seat. “I'm sorry it took so long.”

“Come on now.” She plops into her own chair, smiling easily. “No need to lie.”

“I _am_ sorry that I'm not ready to talk about everything yet.” Yuuri sets his cane aside, clutching his hands together, and staring at the tangled fingers. “I wish… I wish I were stronger.”

“Hey, kiddo.” Her voice loses her teasing lilt, and Yuuri dares to glance up to catch the crease forming on her brow. “You are strong. Stronger than a lot of people are. Just because you need some time to process things, that doesn’t mean you’re weak.”

Yuuri gives a wry grin. “Well then, I’d settle for being normal.”

Minako laughs. “Being normal is overrated, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” She leans forward a little, posture straight like the dancer she is. “Have you been taking your anxiety tonics?”

“I have.” Yuuri scowls. He only needed them every once in a while before, but being so run down between the pain and Victor, it’s as if he has no control over where his thoughts try to drag him. He just wants all of his worries to _go away_ —even though if they did, he knows he’d find new things to worry about. And considering he’s here, with Minako, he can’t avoid them any longer. “Have, um. Have you heard anything about him?”

Minako arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask who “he” is. She knows. “I know that he’s doing better. Much better than you. It’s a matter of time before he decides to come back.”

Yuuri takes a shaky breath. “And I don’t suppose there’s a chance that he’ll decide he just wants to stay up there?”

“If that asshole is anything, he’s determined. And he has the excuse of being your husband.” Minako shakes her head. “I’m sorry Yuuri, but he’s most definitely coming back.”

“And… the rest of them?” His thoughts wander back to the confrontation that just happened in the hall, the confusion that seemed to seep through Phichit’s anger. “I know Minami’s busy just being an apprentice, and the time he spends with me is eerily normal. But the others, well. I know the rumors have spread. I don’t know if it’s gotten up there.”

“It has, in the same way it’s spread outside the mansion—an array of half-truths surrounding the fact that you saved Victor, specifically. They’ll know.” She leans back. “Are you thinking something?”

“I just talked to Phichit.” Yuuri’s eyes wander the room, the chairs and the drawings on the walls dragging his eyes along. “He’s been showing up every now and then. He doesn’t talk to me, doesn’t do _anything_. So I started a conversation with him, and he asked if I was telling the truth with my story, like he didn’t know that was the truth, like Victor had been lying to them.”

“Like you suspected.” Minako nods.

Yuuri frowns. “Yes. They were absolutely sure that anything I would be a lie, or wrong or anything like that. They won’t tell me about what Victor’s told them, or made them believe. And obviously if they cared about Victor, if they were this _passionate_ about Victor, they wouldn’t help him on this suicidal mission, but…” Yuuri takes a deep breath, trying to process the words of a man that he once called his friend. If this was how he would treat and support Yuuri, maybe he wouldn’t have wanted to keep him as a friend anyway. “He didn’t doubt that it was the truth, but despite the fact that Victor succeeding would mean… Well, you know. Phichit was still aggressive about it.”

“Maybe he thinks Victor just wants you dead for revenge? Maybe that really is all he wants.” Minako shrugs.

“No.” Yuuri shakes his head. “Victor’s… well, he’s said some things. He’s stuck in the past and his head, in emotions that sometimes don’t make sense. Every single one of them are _stuck_ and nothing seems to be knocking them out of it, other than maybe how Makka affected Victor, and being an apprentice of Death seems to have steadied Minami in some way. I _saved_ Victor when we were younger. Yakov won’t deny it when the rumors reach him. It’s the truth, a truth that even Phichit acknowledges. Chris, Phichit, and Minami should be happy that I saved him. But they’re not. They’re angry.”

Minako’s eyes narrow. “You’ve really been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

“Yes. Mari was on my case about thinking of something to do before he got back the moment I woke up—”

Minako snorts. “Of course she would.”

Yuuri smiles. “Yeah. It’s nice to have her around, again.”

“Ah ah ah, no getting side-tracked.” Minako waves a finger. “I’m eager to see what this plan of yours is, now that you’ve finally come up with one.”

“Well… it’s less of a plan, and more of a solution. If I’m right.” Yuuri fiddles with his fingers a bit, wincing at the pain. It’s not as bad as when he was last talking to Mari about this stuff, but it still hurts and dammit all, he hopes he’s not making a mistake. “And I think, with how Phichit is, I really might be onto something. But it won’t work without a certain favor, and…”

“And you need me to help?” Minako frowns.

“Yes, but I don’t need the favor from you.” Yuuri takes a breath. “I need you to open a communication with Yakov. The favor is from him.”

Minako stares for a long moment, eyes wide. Then, slow but sure, a grin starts to spread across her lips. “Are you going to ask for what I think you’re going to?”

Yuuri shrugs, smiling a little without humor. “I suppose you’ll just have to wait and see. Now, we’ll have to set up a date and—”

A knock sounds on the door to the room.

“Are you expecting someone?” Yuuri glances at the large wooden doors.

Minako’s frown as she rises is answer enough, striding quickly to the door and yanking it open.

Yurio busts into the room, Makkachin bounding over to nuzzle her snout into Yuuri’s legs. “I hate being everyone’s _fucking_ messenger dog. Or pigeon. Or _whatever._ ” He turns toward Yuuri. “You’re lucky I like you enough for this.”

“For what?” This time Yuuri’s smile is an honest one. Who knew such an angry little god could bring so much odd comfort.

“I got an official communication from the Overworld, since _some_ gods are too lazy to get cell phones, and you’re still out of commission.”

The room goes so quiet that Yuuri’s own breathing feels too loud. “And?”

Yurio meets his eyes. “He’s coming back. In a week.”

Yuuri swallows the scrambling panic threatening to crawl up his throat. There wouldn’t be time to truly test his theory, but that’s all right. It’s the only one he has to go with, anyway. 

The time has come to fight fire with fire. Even if it only leaves ash behind, at least the flames will die out some day when those fueling them are done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to what I like to call the Yuuri's-a-grumpy-old-man-and-done-with-this-shit chapters. Anyways, hope ya'll are ready for present Victor to come back next chapter~ I just realized it's been over a month since you've seen him for everyone who's been reading along as I post.   
> BRACE YOURSELVES
> 
> Thank you so, so much to [AceMoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet) for betaing this chapter! And thank you to everyone who's reading, leaving kudos, and especially commenting--you've no idea how many times a random comment has kept me writing when I lose my steam. <3 <3 <3
> 
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	16. XVI

“I wish he wasn’t coming back,” Yurio grumbles as they stand on the front lawn of the mansion, waiting among the frost and dark clouds as the chill of winter digs its fingers into the Underworld.

Yuuri clutches his cane in front of him, glancing toward the younger god. He won’t admit it aloud, but Yuuri wishes Victor wasn’t coming back either. If he decided not to come back, then Yuuri would have every excuse never to see Victor again. He can’t go to the Overworld anymore, his body won’t allow him in the same way that Makka’s won’t allow hers. He’d never have to deal with another attempt on his life—well, at least not in the foreseeable future. Every once in a while some god thinks it’s a smart idea to kill Death for whatever reason. But typically they have about as much luck as Victor’s had so far, and with far less forgiving circumstances.

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Mila sighs, gripping Sara’s hand. “If only the bastard could take a hint.”

At least, this time, it isn’t just Yurio and Yuuri trying to deal with a new, weird situation like Yuuri’s getting married. This time, Victor’s coming to Yuuri on his home turf, with Yurio, Mila, Sara, Minako, Mari, and even Yuuko flanking him as they wait for the man’s inevitable arrival. Yes, Phichit and Minami are here too, a bit removed from the group surrounding Yuuri, but it’s different. Minami is stuck somewhere between sides, Phichit is confused.

And this time, Yuuri has a plan. Even if his plan is a little _late_.

Yuuko fiddles with her apron, eyes flitting around as if Victor and Chris—as Yuuri is absolutely sure Victor won’t come back alone—will pop out of the shadows and start attacking them all.

“You guys know you don’t have to wait here with me, right?” Yuuri glances at them all. “He’s going to come whether or not you all are here.”

“And who will keep you safe while you’re like this?” Sara sniffs.

“Yeah, you walk with a cane for heaven’s sake.” Mila nods. “If you’re so weak, who knows if he’ll wait for you to be able to fence again? He could try something right now.”

Yuuri glances over at them. “He won’t—”

“Don’t you dare trust that bastard.” Yurio snaps. “Not after all of his bullshit.”

“But he’s stuck to his agreements so far,” Yuuri tries. “If he wants to change something, maybe—”

“If you start counting on your maybes, I haven’t taught you well enough.” Minako snorts. “You can do better than that.”

“But _still,_ that doesn’t mean that you all need to be out here.” Yuuri finally manages to get out a full sentence.

Yuuko shrugs. “I’m just hoping for an opportunity to hit him with a rolling pin or two.”

It’s quiet for a second, and then the tension Yuuri hadn’t even noticed in the air just _snaps,_ and he can’t help but laugh.

“Make sure it counts,” Yurio mutters.

“Oh, he’ll be feeling the bruises for days.” Yuuko grins, and it might be the most vicious thing Yuuri’s ever seen on her face.

“You really shouldn’t,” Yuuri tries, despite the fact that he’s still chuckling.

“Just try and stop her,” Yurio mutters.

“I’ll make a deal.” Yuuko puts her hands on her hips. “Stab him next time you have a fencing match, and I won’t.”

Yuuri laughs again. “All right, fine. I’ll do my very best.”

“You’d better.” A smile spreads across Mila’s face, despite the fact that she’s obviously trying to hide it. “After all, if your plan doesn’t work, maybe incapacitating him will at least save us some time while we regroup.”

Phichit’s gaze snaps their way as he hears the word, “plan,” Mila not even trying to keep her tone down. He had been shifting on his feet before, but now he plays with the sleeves of his shirt, glancing down at Minami who keeps his eyes on the ground. Yuuri can’t help but feel sympathy for Minami—he’d almost seemed at peace while Victor was gone, happy and chipper even if he spent most of his time with a particularly irritable Yurio. Now he’s as still as the dead, keeping his eyes averted like he’s trying to hide, but Yuuri can see the red rims around his eyes and the quick breaths of his small sniffles.

Yuuri wants to offer for him to come closer, despite how Yurio would inevitably hiss and spit. But… he still hasn’t told Yuuri anything, even with Victor gone. They’ve talked about nearly anything else, but not that. Never that. Even though Yuuri and his gods could easily handle Phichit alone, Minami never made a move.

Perhaps it’s because he’s under some curse, and he can’t even make the attempt to try. But if that was the case, why did he corner Yuuri to try and tell him the first and the second time—at the ball, absolutely surrounded by Victor’s “friends,” and the other time when Yuuri had been trying to dance to the dead.

It’s complicated, whatever’s happening. But Minami isn’t fully on Yuuri’s side, and he can’t allow himself to forget that.

Something stirs in the air—like wind, but not quite. It rubs against the rawest of Yuuri’s senses, searing against him to the point that tears well in his eyes. The tang of familiar power wells around them, and Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut against it, just for a moment.

“Are you all right?” Minako murmurs at his side.

Yuuri gives a sharp laugh, forcing his eyes open. “No. But I will be.”

Minako simply squeezes his arm lightly, then takes a step back, letting Yuuri be at the forefront of the small crowd. He’d rather be at the back of it, of course, but he appreciates the gesture. They’ll let him lead them, figuratively and literally, whether or not he feels he deserves it—and oh, he doesn’t deserve it. He’s tired, in pain, and weak. He’s not Death right now, he’s just Yuuri, and he has to face a man that makes him feel so many types of fear it’s not even funny.

But despite how he feels or where else he’d rather be right now, two forms materialize on the grass in from of him, the mid-morning suns beating down on them.

Yuuri wasn’t sure what he was expecting to feel, but it isn’t what stampedes through him right then. Something about Victor is raw in a way that is both unlike and like the unhealed edges of Yuuri, and in him Yuuri senses a bit of _himself_. Gods, no wonder Victor must have fixated on him after that whole incident years ago, when he couldn’t do anything with his own power without feeling Yuuri in some way. It’s an intimacy that’s violating to Yuuri, and he doesn’t even have to deal with it like Victor does.

And that’s just at the _sense_ of him. When Yuuri meets those cold, icy eyes, something inside of his chest crumples, blowing away with the wind. Victor looks tired, but not as much as he had before, when his life was slipping away every second he had been here. Honestly, he almost looks better than he had at the treaty celebration. He holds himself a little taller, and there’s some more color to his skin, though he’s still pale. Honestly, well… He looks a little attractive.

No. Yuuri scowls. He isn’t going to find his potential murderer _attractive_ , what the hell is wrong with him? Maybe Victor has an emotionless mask on, but Chris beside him? His lips are pulled back into a sneer, eyes narrowed. Maybe he’s not going for murder out of the gate, but it’s obviously still on the agenda.

“How nice to see you again,” Yuuri drawls, gripping his cane so tight his knuckles have turned white. “I was angry with you, you know.”

Chris nearly takes a step forward, but Victor raises his hand just a tad to stop him.

“Oh?” Victor arches his eyebrow just a tad. “Did you miss me?”

“Nothing like that, don’t flatter yourself.” Yuuri barely holds back from spitting the words. “I thought you said that we’d be at this game for all eternity, if we had to be? You lied to me. You were never going to make it that long.”

“Because of _you_ ,” Chris growls, jabbing a finger at Yuuri.

“Chris,” Victor warns.

Yuuri raises an eyebrow. Well, this is interesting. Minami’s sad, Phichit’s confused, but Chris hasn’t even remotely changed—if anything, he’s gotten angrier. This is the god that got into a fight with Mila, yes, but Mila had thrown that first punch, and he backed down then. Yuuri would put money on Chris not backing down, now.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, Chris, but I’m the one who saved Victor.” Yuuri can’t help a small grin as Chris’s scowl deepens. “Not only once, but twice.”

“He wouldn’t have _needed_ saving if it weren’t for you,” Chris mutters.

“He wouldn’t have needed saving if Victor hadn’t come down here willingly, _knowing_ what was happening.” Mila crosses her arms, looking down her nose at Chris.

“And Yuuri saved his ass before that, too!” Yurio adds in, and Yuuri can sense the swirl of his power around him.

Luckily he’s standing close enough that Yuuri can grab his elbow, giving a slight shake of his head. Yurio reigns it in, a scowl on his face. Unlike _Victor_ , Yuuri can keep a handle on the gods in his care. They actually have some sense.

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Chris snaps. “The reason all this shit’s happened is Yuuri’s fault, anyway!”

It’s as if everyone around Yuuri bursts out with some argument, but he doesn’t hear them. He only hears one.

“No, Chris.” Victor’s tone is cold, a stab through the gut that’s been aimed at Yuuri too many times. “No, it’s not.”

And it’s quiet again, maybe even quieter than before.

“Go inside and calm down.” Victor doesn’t even look at Chris as he addresses him. “We’ll talk later.”

Chris clenches his fists, glaring around at the lot of Yuuri’s gods, and even toward Minami and Phichit where they stand, silent this whole time. “Fine,” he mutters before striding past the gods and into the house, though not before catching Yuuri’s eye and sneering, of course.

Yuuri nearly snorts out a laugh. Chris is practically a child throwing a tantrum. It isn’t as if anyone’s done anything wrong, except perhaps Victor. He focuses on him now, in the way the slight breeze causes his bangs to shift, nearly covering the way he isn’t glaring. It’s hardly a friendly expression, but…

But Yuuri’s still trying to accept the fact that he _defended_ him. Yuuri has a small army of people surrounding him, there was no real threat here, but Victor ended it before it began.

“Well,” Victor begins, tossing the hair from his face, “you have me now.”

Yuuri blinks. “What?”

“You said I promised you eternity.” Victor smiles, something harsh in a way that Yuuri can’t tell if it’s with exhaustion, or resentment. “You would have had me alive or dead, and now lucky for you, you get to put up with me alive.”

Yuuri shoves down the urge to flinch at those words. “You wouldn’t have been dead, you know that.”

Victor shrugs. “Technicalities. Besides that fact, if you’d just—”

The air shifts, something changing yet again. There’s a feeling in the air that Yuuri, personally, has never felt before, but by the way that Victor and Mila stiffen, he’d wager a guess that they have.

“Looks like our final guest has finally arrived.” Yuuri smiles like the cat that got the cream. “I hope you don’t mind me having someone over, husband dear.”

Victor’s eyes widen minutely before he turns around as a figure materializes behind them.

A man walks forward—well, a younger god. Dark hair short and undercut, and just as dark eyes rove around the crowd of people here before finally landing on Yuuri. He bows. “I apologize for being late, my lord. I had meant to be here yesterday.”

Yuuri finally lifts a hand from his death grip on his cane, waving it in some attempt at nonchalance. “It’s fine, your message got through, and to be frank, your timing is perfect.” Yuuri glances at Victor then, at how tight his jaw is clenched, at the slight narrowing of his eyes. Good. “And there’s no need to be so formal. Come inside, let’s get everyone settled. Shall we?”

He motions for people to go inside, and slowly they do. Minami and Phichit are the first to go, heads down and faster than they had to go. Then Minako wraps her arms around Mila and Yurio before they can start nagging Yuuri, Sara trailing as her hand is still in Mila’s. Otabek follows the crowd, an amused quirk to his lips. Yuuko gives his shoulder a little squeeze before following, Mari sharing a little smirk as she goes. Then he readjusts his cane and turns to follow them.

“Yuuri.” Victor’s voice isn’t just cold, it’s dead—devoid of emotions. It makes a shiver run down Yuuri’s spine.

He could just walk inside, ignore Victor completely. It would be so easy, but… But Yuuri has the high ground here. His allies aren’t too far off, he’s sure Mari’s probably just inside the door, waiting. He’s safe, theoretically. Even if his heart hammers with the way Victor says his name.

Yuuri turns around. “Victor.”

He takes a few steps closer, enough that he doesn’t have to raise his voice to speak. “Did you really bring Otabek here?”

“Did you really just defend me?” Yuuri bristles, even though he _shouldn’t_. If Victor had nothing to hide, he wouldn’t be upset at Otabek’s presence. Yuuri’s winning, he’ll be safe soon. It doesn’t matter what happens to Victor.

Victor’s mouth twitches, just slightly. “I didn’t _defend_ you. I spoke the truth.”

But if that’s the truth, then why did Victor even come back? Why does he still want Yuuri dead? “I don’t believe you.”

Victor snorts. “That’s fine. Believe what you want to believe, I won’t change your mind.” He takes another step closer, voice dropping even further. “I don’t care about that. What I care about is what you want me for.”

“Want you for?” What Yuuri _wants_ from Victor is for the god to be back in the Overworld and for him to stay there for the rest of their miserable existences. What Yuuri _wants_ is for Victor to just let go and forget about him. What Yuuri _wants_ is to dance in spring once more time, to see Victor smiling and glowing and happy among the fresh greens and blossoms of new growth.

But just because he wants it doesn’t mean he can get it, and he sure as hell isn’t trying for any of that anymore.

“I don’t want you at all,” Yuuri sneers, lie bitter on his tongue.

Victor cocks an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. “Oh? Then please, explain to me why the hell you begged Yakov to bring me back.”

Yuuri flinches, taking a step back and mentally cursing himself as the pain ripples through his body. He can’t be weak, not now. “I didn’t beg him.”

“Funny.” Victor matches him, taking a step forward. “Yakov said he’d never seen someone more distraught or desperate.”

Well, apparently Yakov is a fucking traitor. Yuuri had counted him a tentative ally after Yuuri had brought him Victor’s body, and with how easily and willingly he parted from Otabek and his extremely useful power, but he had no business telling Victor about that. “Well, I’m sorry for trying to save your pathetic life. But it means nothing more than what it is.”

Victor shakes his head. “You don’t have to tell me, Yuuri, but I’ll figure it out. It’s only a matter of time.”

Yuuri sighs. “Fine. Have fun with chasing after nothing. You have no evidence of any of this.”

“But I _do_.” He smiles, a vicious expression that Yuuri’s far more comfortable with than whatever he’s been up to this whole time. “When I woke up, Yakov said that you sacrificed _another_ part of yourself for me. And now that he mentions it, I remember the traces of your magic in me after that incident years ago, just like I feel it now. What does that mean?”

Yuuri grimaces, glancing away. Both Yakov and Victor are idiots who don’t know when to leave well enough alone. “It means exactly what it sounds like.”

Victor’s quiet and still, unsettlingly so for a moment. “What did you give up?”

Yuuri chokes on a laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know? You’ve already gotten ahold of enough of my weaknesses, I don’t think you need any more.” He’s already told him what he gave up last time, even if he doesn’t put it together. Yuuri owes him _nothing._

Victor shrugs. “Regardless, it doesn’t matter. As I said, I’ll figure it out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out!” Yuuri snaps, baring his teeth. “Not everyone has an ulterior motive for their every move, no matter how improbable it may seem to you. There’s no secret weakness of mine you haven’t figured out, no plan you can’t easily figure out.” He takes a deep breath, letting a smirk flit across his face. He doesn’t need to hide his plans, unlike Victor. There aren’t any secrets, nothing beyond what Otabek will do to them. “This isn’t your game anymore, Victor. And believe me, you’ll wish you’d never started it when I’m done.”

And with that, Yuuri turns and strides as best he can into the house.

He really should feel accomplished and secure right now. Victor has no hold on him right now, other than the fencing matches—which is another discussion they’ll have to have, considering that isn’t in Yuuri’s capabilities right now. But instead, his heartbeat ricochets around his chest, his mind racing as he retreats deeper into the house.

_Why_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri, swinging his cane at everyone: GET OFF MY LAWN
> 
> And my first chapter of the new year brings me past 100k on AO3! Holy cow!!! I have written more fanfic in a few months than I've written in general in YEARS, and I honestly still can't believe I'm writing at all, much less how _much_ with everything that's happened to me! And it's all thanks to your guys' encouragement and support, so: THANK YOU!!! Sorry for getting all sappy on you, but still!!! I hope you have a wonderful new year.  <3
> 
> Speaking of... HOLY CRAP AS I WAS TYPING THIS UP LAST NIGHT [I GOT SOME ABSOLUTELY FABULOUS FANART BY BOOKSEN!](http://kazul9.tumblr.com/post/181721616743/booksen-quick-fanart-for) I’M STILL RECOVERING FROM IT!!! GO LOOK!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!
> 
> Also, as a side note because it was asked: YES, please feel free to create fanart! It absolutely makes my entire life!!! I scream for hours!!!!!!
> 
> *ahem* Thank you so much to [AceMoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet) and Blue for betaing this beast of a fic! And thank you guys so much for continuing to read, and leave kudos, and I absolutely owe everyone who leaves a comment everything—you guys keep me writing. <3 
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	17. XVII

“Well?” Yuuri limps along the hallway with Makka at his side, faster than before, but still at a crawl that makes him itch to be able to run or jump or _anything_. The emptiness of his missing power probably doesn’t help matters either, but what is he going to do about it? “Do you think you can help?”

Otabek’s quiet for a moment before he gives a slight nod. “It will take time, though.”

Yuuri sighs. Of course it would. Nothing comes easy these days.

“Then what fucking good are you?” Yurio snaps. Not that Yuuri would mention it to him, but Yurio’s seemed far more agitated—earnestly agitated, not just Yurio’s usual harmless hissing and spitting—ever since Victor and Otabek have arrived. Not that Yuuri blames him, of course. It’s not like he’s particularly at ease either.

Otabek raises an eyebrow, expression as solemn as ever. “And what good are you?”

Yurio’s jaw drops, and it’s only Yuuri’s snail pace that keeps him from falling behind as he stops walking.

Yuuri reaches for Yurio, to ground him, but the younger god shrugs him off.

“Fine.” Yurio crosses his arms. “Whatever. You have a point.”

Yuuri isn’t sure but he’d almost be willing to bet money that he catches a small smirk on Otabek’s lips.

Huh. Well, Yuuri hadn’t expected them to mix well with their polar opposite dispositions, but he’ll take it. He keeps moving, cane tapping gently along the cold, hard floor. “How long?”

“It depends.” Otabek shrugs. “It feels as if it runs deep, so tracking and concluding it will take time.”

“Well, can’t you give us an estimate?” Yurio shoves his hands in his pockets, but keeps his tone lighter, more conversational.

“I wish. I don’t like this any more than you do. Not that I’m threatened the same way you are.” He glances at Yuuri. “But something isn’t right.”

Yurio sighs. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.” Otabek frowns. “I wish I could say it was anything substantial or identifiable, but it’s more of a gut feeling than anything. You say it’s Victor who wants you dead, yes?”

Yuuri nods. “He wants me dead, though Phichit and Chris seem to be enthusiastically following along, too. Minami… well, he’s supporting them, but he’s a trickier case.”

“Hmm… Interesting.” Otabek’s frown deepens.

“What the hell does that mean?” Yurio throws his hands up. “If you don’t tell us what’s up, how are we supposed to help you?”

“I don’t need help.” Otabek eyes Yurio. “Lord Yuuri needs it more than any anyone else.”

“I’m fine.” Yuuri snaps. “And just call me Yuuri, or I’ll be hitting someone with this cane.”

“You’re _not_ fine,” Yurio grumbles. “You really think you’re going to survive in a fencing match against that douchebag right?”

“Oh, I won’t push him to fence right now.”

All three of them pause, glancing down a hall that splits away from the main one they're in. Victor leans against a wall, obviously waiting for them to walk by.

Yuuri huffs out a sigh. He did _not_ miss these ridiculous dramatics.

Makka has a different opinion, however, bounding forward with a loud _boof_ and nearly colliding with Victor’s chest.

And Victor… laughs? It’s only a chuckle, but it isn’t the maniacal noise that Yuuri’s so accustomed to, and it throws off any response that may have been stewing in his mind. Victor leans down to thoroughly scratch Makka, not quite smiling, but almost there.

Otabek is absolutely right. Something’s wrong. Very wrong.

“Victor.” Otabek bows his head just slightly, not breaking eye contact.

Odd, that he would call Yuuri “Lord” and not Victor. Technically Victor’s his husband, he has almost as much authority as Yuuri, though not quite. Is there some past here, or… something else?

Victor smiles, the expression not reaching his eyes. “Otabek. I’m surprised Yakov was willing to part with you.”

Otabek’s eyes flicker to Yuuri, who shakes his head. “From what I understand, Yakov’s been on excellent terms with Death lately. And since the war’s over, I’ve been needed much less. Peace doesn’t suit me.”

Victor snorts. “And the dead don’t have peace, do they?”

“The dead have peace.” Yuuri snaps. “The rest of us aren’t as lucky, however. Otabek being here has nothing to do with you, he’s my guest. Now, is that why you were lurking, or do you have any decent reason to be doing this?”

“Don’t I have the right to be wherever I want to be in my own house?” Victor stands up, Makka prancing around his feet, tongue lolling out. “But I _was_ waiting and hoping to catch you. May I have a word with you, Yuuri? Alone?”

Yuuri stiffens.

Teeth bared, Yurio takes a step toward him. “You don’t deserve anything, you sack of—“

“Yurio.” Yuuri snaps, clutching his cane. “Though it may be true, we don’t need to fight right now. You’re alone?”

Victor glances behind him, above him, lifting up a shoe to look there. “Hmm, yes. I’m pretty sure I’m alone.”

“Then I suppose it would be all right,” Yuuri says, even as he stiffens and his heartbeat picks up.

This time it’s Yurio’s job to grab his elbow. “Are you sure?”

No, he isn’t. It could be a trap, he could have somehow figured out how to murder Yuuri—he doesn’t know what having some of himself in Victor does to the man, what it allows him to know. But whatever he wants, saying no now would only put off the inevitable. Knowing Victor, he’d go to worse extremes to get what he wants.

“I’ll be fine, Yurio,” Yuuri says, as if saying the words will make them true. “Why don’t you show Otabek the springs? We have to dance to the dead, but we can join him afterward.” Well, Yurio and Minami will dance while Yuuri watches and attempts to coach, but that’s beside the point. It sounds like a nice reward for surviving this encounter— the springs are the only thing that seems to alleviate the pain much, these days.

Yurio opens his mouth to argue, but Otabek cuts in, “That sounds lovely. I’d be honored if you showed me the way.”

Yurio snorts, then crosses his arms. “Fine. Whatever. Don’t die, Katsudon.” And he walks off.

“Did he just call you ‘katsudon?’” Victor’s lip twitches up, almost like genuine amusement. “Like that pork dish?”

“The one you poisoned your first meal here?” Yuuri steps down the hall toward Victor, narrowing his eyes. “Yes. Just like that. He’s used the nickname in front of you, nice of you to…” Well, from what Yuuri can remember, the last and maybe only time he can be sure that Victor was around while Yurio was calling him that would have been right before he nearly fell into a coma. “I suppose it was when you took Makka with you.”

Victor’s brow furrows. “I took Makka?”

“You don’t remember?” Yuuri’s brows raise. “It was for that night when I took you up to Yakov. She’s the one who let me know something was wrong, regardless of whether you wanted her to or not.” He almost dares him to try and blame or threaten Makka for it—that would be the final straw for Yuuri. Threaten Makka, and he’ll gladly suffer through a war for her.

Maybe… Maybe he can understand Victor a little more than he’d like.

But Victor simply kneels again, scratching the scales around her ears enough that her leg starts shaking. “Once a good girl, always a good girl, right Makka?”

She _boofs_ as if an affirmative, and Victor smiles. Actually smiles, his eyes crinkling just a bit.

Yuuri barely resists taking a step back, his brain screaming _wrong_ , but the sensation is almost the exact opposite of what it had before he’d saved Victor this time. And he’s not sure what it means. He clears his throat, drawing Victor’s attention back to him. “How did you know that being down here would drain you like that, anyway?”

Victor cocks an eyebrow. “You really thought I’d come down here without doing some reconnaissance? I noticed what it was doing to me, I thought maybe you’d done it on purpose.”

“Why would I—?” Yuuri shakes his head. “I didn’t. Obviously.”

“I figured that out fairly quickly.” Victor narrows his eyes. “You have some sort of motive for keeping me alive, anyway.”

Yes, Yuuri’s motivation is _being a decent person_. Well, perhaps it is a little selfish, too, but Victor never needs to know that. It obviously wasn’t important enough to remember their first meeting, Yuuri’s the only one who clings to that memory—even if he wishes he didn’t and could scrape it from his brain. “Believe what you want to believe, since the truth seems to be so far out of your grasp. Now, what did you want?”

“Oh!” Victor stands up. “You’re still recovering, aren’t you?”

Yuuri snorts. “No, I just use the cane as an accessory. _Yes_ , I’m still recovering.” Something bitter and sour curls up inside of Yuuri as he notes how easily Victor moves, fully recovered while Yuuri is still suffering. No good deed goes unpunished, and Yuuri seems to be the poster child for the phrase. Part of him wishes he could be as ruthless and cruel as Victor, but another part of him knows it would destroy who he is, for whatever that’s worth. He would do all he’s done over again.

Victor nods, nonplussed at Yuuri’s sarcasm. “Well then, we’ll postpone our fencing matches until you can walk without it.”

Yuuri blinks. “What?”

“It would be entirely boring to destroy you every morning and evening. And I imagine that it wouldn’t help with your healing, so that the boredom would last even longer.” Victor glances down as Makka paws his thigh, vying for his attention. “So, rest up. We have all eternity after all, don’t we?”

Yuuri can’t help but notice that the venom is lacking from Victor’s voice, at odds with the last time that Victor promised him an eternity or trying to murder him. He narrows his eyes, examining Victor’s face. This has to be a ploy. It has to be some sort of plan. “And let me guess, while you wait for me, the terms of the fencing agreement are moot, and my gods aren’t safe.”

Victor raises his hands. “No, nothing like that. Would you believe me if I said I had to recover a bit still as well?”

“No.” He may as well be honest. “You’d have the best opportunity to kill me while I’m weak, while I can’t fight back. This is ridiculous, don’t pretend as if you care.”

“Oh, that isn’t it at all,” Victor waves his hand. “But I’ve already explained it, and you don’t accept my explanation. How fitting: I don’t believe you, and you don’t believe me. We’re even. Regardless, I’m not fencing with you until you’re better.”

Yuuri wants to argue, to threaten to hunt Victor down and drag him to fence—but then what? Victor just stands there and lets Yuuri win? This is _ridiculous_. He’s lying. Maybe he thinks this is payback for the non-lie that he’s sure Yuuri’s telling. Well, it doesn’t matter. Yuuri will just have to be hyper-vigilant of all of them. Maybe he’ll indulge Yurio and let him trail around like he always seems to want to these days, just for an extra set of eyes.

But then Yuuri remembers the way that Chris’s eyes gleamed with anger, the way he’d barely backed down.

No, Yuuri will have to find a way to deal with Victor alone, if and when he and his crew make a move.

“Fine.” Yuuri waves his hand in dismissal, as if he can fix the issue. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to help Minami and Yurio dance.”

“Of course, you have a bit of work to catch up on, I’d imagine.” Victor sighs, leaning down to pet Makka one last time. “I’ll see you later, all right girl?”

Dammit, he shouldn’t offer, but… “Do you want to spend some time with her? After all, you… you’ve been away for awhile.” Yuuri grimaces.

Victor blinks up at him, quiet for a moment so long that Yuuri wishes he could just crawl away with Makka tucked under his arm. “No. You need her more right now, but thank you. I’ll see you later, Yuuri.” And he turns and walks away.

Yuuri watches him as he goes, trying and failing to put together what he means, that Yuuri needs Makka more right now. Is that a threat? After all, the one time Yuuri insisted that Victor needed Makka, he nearly went into an eternal coma. And it’s not like Victor even remembers that, apparently.

And… Has Victor ever said his name that much, before? Why is he using it so damn often? Honestly, as much as he hates it, he’d rather have the jabs at their facade of a marriage instead of this. It feels… more intimate?

Maybe that’s what been so off.

But _why_?

He mentally shakes himself off and starts walking away, calling Makka so she stops looking forlornly after Victor. Well, he can at least talk to Minako and Mari about it later, even if neither of seem to have a clue as to what’s going on. Well, that may be a lie. Minako doesn’t seem as confused as everyone else, but it’s not like she’s offering any solutions either. For once, it seems like Yuuri’s got the only decent plan, and of _course_ it’s going to take time.

“What the hell did he want?”

Yuuri nearly jumps out of his skin as Yurio steps out from next to the front doors, then he scowls. So much for being hyper-vigilant. “I hope you didn’t kill our guest before you deposited him in the springs?”

“Of course I didn’t. What the fuck, I’m not _Victor_.” Yurio sneers as he opens the door. “And you’re not getting out of answering my question.”

“I wasn’t trying to avoid it.” Yuuri steps out past Yurio, wishing he _could_ avoid talking about it, honestly. “Victor… said he wanted to wait on fencing until I’ve healed.”

“ _What_?”

“That was my reaction. He says that it’ll be no fun when he can easily win again and again. I tried to get a hint of what he really wanted, but he wouldn’t give anything. He even said that he’d keep his side of the deal while he waited.” While it was true that the word of a god held weight, Victor could still work around it—and would, knowing him.

“The bastard is up to something.” Yurio frowns, staring down at the grass as they approach the ponds.

“I agree.” Yuuri lets out a huff of breath, feeling odd being here without his robes on. He doesn’t think he’s come out to the pools like this since he was a toddler, watching his parents with wide eyes.

“Victor isn’t _that_ bad.” Minami runs up from behind them, bangs bouncing in his face. “If he says he won’t, he won’t.”

Yuuri opens his mouth to argue, to find a promise that Victor’s made and broken, but he can’t really find one. Sure, he said he’d be down here for all eternity to try and go after Yuuri when he _knew_ he was going to have the life sucked out of him, but that’s all Yuuri can really think of. “Well, I’ll believe it when I see it. Are you two ready?”

Yurio nods, but Minami fidgets.

“Um…” Minami looks away over the pools. “C-can I ask something?”

“Just spit it out, you chicken nugget,” Yurio grumbles.

Yuuri bites his lip against laughing, and clears his throat. “Of course you can ask something, Minami. Is it about the dance?”

“N-no. Not really? Not at all, actually.” He laughs, a high-pitched and unnatural thing.

Yurio and Yuuri exchange a glance.

“I just… Otabek being here… do we really need him down here? What does he do exactly, anyway? Isn’t he some war general or something?”

Yuuri puts a hand on Minami’s shoulder, making the poor kid twitch more. “He _was_ , before the war ended. He’s made no secret of the fact that he hated the fighting as much as a lot of the other, younger gods did.”

“But! He was the youngest general in history! Or at least the most recent history, I don’t know about anything over a few thousand years ago, history wasn’t really my favorite subject. And not that it really matters anyway! But I don’t feel safe with him around, can he—can’t he just go home?” Minami talks so fast that it takes a solid second for Yuuri to process everything he’s said after he’s stopped talking.

“Do you _really_ think we’d just send him right back up to head asshole of Life after Yuuri called him down here?” Yurio’s brow is furrowed, just as confused as Yuuri.

“But he’s so far from home!” Minami’s voice reaches a new pitch. “Don’t you think he doesn’t want to be here either? Wasn’t what we were doing before working? We don’t—he isn’t—why—”

“Holy fuck, shut up!” Yurio throws his hands into the air. “Otabek’s not going home! Do you really think Yuuri’d bring him here if he didn’t absolutely need to have him here? Have you _ever_ seen Yuuri willingly and happily ask for help? What’s wrong with you?”

“Yurio,” Yuuri snaps. “Go out to the edge, I’ll talk with Minami.”

Yurio glares with as much vehemence as he possibly can before he stomps—yes, stomps like some teenager going through puberty— out among the ponds. Yuuri winces as he catches sight of the ripples among the pools. The dead must be used to him by now, they respond to the tides of Yurio’s power after all, but… he could tread a little more _gently_. They’re dead after all—though Yurio uses the same excuse against him. They’re dead, what do they care?

“I… I’m sorry.” Minami keeps his eyes stuck to the ground, hands clutched in his robes. “I know you’re not… I’m not… It’s just…” His next words come out so quiet, Yuuri’s not sure that he hears them right. “I’m scared.”

Yuuri’s grip grows tighter on the young god’s shoulder. “It’s going to be all right, Minami. I don’t know what exactly’s going on, but no one’s going to get hurt unless they hurt others.”

Minami takes a shaky breath. “And then what?”

“And then we deal with it. I’m not killing anyone unless they get out of control, or Victor goes after anyone who isn’t me. You’re going to be okay.”

Minami reaches up and presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, his voice cracking as he answers, “Yeah.”

Yuuri tugs him closer, holding him to his chest while his shoulders shake. What did Victor _do_ to him? But then again, why does Minami seem so worried about him? What will they uncover about Victor? And _why_ is he still so loyal to him, even after everything?

It would be nice if, for once, he could get more answers than questions.

“Hey, assholes!” Yurio calls across the pools. “If you want to actually do your job before the sunset, you’ve gotta get over here.”

“If you’re not up for it, it’s fine,” Yuuri murmurs, glancing down at Minami’s pile of blonde hair.

“No!” Minami pulls away, wiping furiously at his eyes, and running toward Yurio. “It’s fine, everything fine!”

Yuuri scowls, but walks after them.

Everything is _not_ fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Old Man Yuuri intensifies~ Speaking of Old Man Yuuri, Betterthannothing drew amazing art of Yuuri shaking his cane that had me cracking up, check it out on [Tumblr](http://kazul9.tumblr.com/post/181836738983/betterthan2nothing-you-have-been-visited-by-the) and on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Betterthannoth3/status/1082614695352287232)!!! HE'S SUCH A GOOD GRUMPY OLD MAN AND I LOVE HIM!!!!!
> 
> Also, before I forget… *points up at chapter count and waggles eyebrows* Guess who essentially finished drafting this beast? ;D Barring any dramatic changes while editing, you guys have got 20 more chapters to look forward to (or dread?).
> 
> Thank you guys so, so much for all of your support!!!!! I absolutely wouldn't have gotten this far without all of you, and you're all amazing and I appreciate every last one of you. <3 And thank you to [AceMoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet) and Blue for betaing my ridiculous messes!!!
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	18. XVIII

Yuuri can’t put it off any longer.

It’s only been a week, but anxiety courses beneath his skin so strongly that he feels itchy. He has to fence.

Technically, he can walk without the cane some part of the time, and he _has_ healed more since that day. And Victor has done nothing, as he said he would. But it’s a ticking time bomb of a situation if he does nothing, and he can’t risk that. Not with Otabek here, making slow but sure progress. Yuuri’s going to get to the bottom of this, he’s going to solve all the problems that Victor’s brought down here with him, but to do that, he has to stay alive.

Which means fencing, and possibly dying as a result.

At least _this_ is something he can control though. Kind of.

“This is a bad idea,” Mari mutters, walking next to Yuuri and supporting some of his weight as Makka trots almost pensively at his side.

Yuuri can’t help but scoff. “It always is.” Of course today had to be a bad day, his limbs burning with every movement, his own weight too much to bear, much less a _sword_. He needs to come up with a way to keep Victor engaged, to keep his promise until Otabek’s ready. But _how_?

“I… If you want me to stay longer, I will.” Mari’s mouth is a thin line as she makes the offer. Because she really can’t, not if they want to keep the Underworld running smoothly. There’s too much to manage from here. Their mansion is so far removed from everything else for the peace of the dead, but Reapers don’t exactly lead peaceful lives.

“No.” Yuuri attempts a smile, but from how Mari frowns, he knows he’s failed. “I’ll be fine. You’ve stayed long enough, and, I mean, what have you been able to do here, really? I appreciate your support and… I…” And he wishes Mari could stay, he wishes he could have the comfort of his older sister around, but he can’t. “Besides, I have Mila, Sara, Yurio, Minako, and Yuuko and her brood.”

“You had them before, and look what good it’s done you,” she snaps.

“I…” Yuuri wilts. “This was _my_ choice. And now Otabek’s around to change things. Nothing’s different from before, and I was managing it then. I’ll be fine.”

Except everything’s different, and he’s _not_ fine. No one’s acting right, least of all _Victor_. He can handle Victor as a heartless monster out to kill him, as some being to overcome, but… He really hasn’t tried anything since he told Yuuri to rest. None of his gods have, even if Minami seems to get spazzier and spazzier by the day. Victor has to be after something, trying something. Maybe trying to get to the bottom of whatever secret that he thinks Yuuri has. Which is fine. If he wants to look for something that doesn’t exist and gives Yuuri a break in the meantime, he’ll take it.

He just wishes he could worry less about it.

“I don’t believe you.” Mari sighs. “Not for a minute. You haven’t been fine since the first time you helped that asshole, all those years ago, despite Minako being around. Just… please call me if you need me, or need to talk.”

“I will.” If he can find his cell phone. Honestly,with how long it’s been since he’s used it, Phichit would probably know where it as better than him—

No, he can’t let himself go there. Not now.

“Good.” Mari turns them towards the door outside. “I guess we have no reason to procrastinate anymore then, do we?”

Yuuri laughs. “I guess not. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“You’d better.” She punches him ever so lightly on the shoulder, enough that he can hold back the wince. “You promised you’d say goodbye.”

“And I never break a promise.” Yuuri smiles at her before he shifts his weight onto his cane and strides outside.

It’s a little earlier than they’d normally fence in the evenings, the suns casting an orange haze across the stones of the courtyard, everything painted in a sepia glow. It’s another compromise that Victor accepted, another thing that throws Yuuri off. He’s grateful for the chance to eat and rest afterward but before he heads off to help Yurio and Minami dance, though maybe he should be worried about this, too.

Makka gives a _boof_ and runs across the courtyard to jump at Victor. Victor kneels down, smiling largely and ruffling her fur as he coos at her. _Coos_ at her.

It’s not like Makka hasn’t always been Victor’s soft spot, Yuuri’d never seen him so torn up as he had when he’d seen Makka was alive. Victor might have tried to control the emotion, but for it to be enough to break the cool and calculated mask he’s been wearing, it had to have hurt. But this? This is… it’s too much.

“Are you ready to fence?” The words snap out of Yuuri’s mouth sharper than expected, drawing Victor’s attention away from Makkachin.

Victor frowns. “I thought I said we wouldn’t fence until you weren’t using the cane, Yuuri.”

“You did. And I don’t need it, not all of the time, today is just…” Yuuri scowls. “I can fence. That’s what counts.”

“I’ve kept my word, we don’t need to—”

“And I said I didn’t believe you.” Yuuri rests his cane against a wall, walking forward. “Nothing’s changed, except I’ve healed, which was your requirement. Are we fencing, or not?”

Victor frowns, eyes narrowing. “Fine.” And he tosses a blade at Yuuri.

He catches it. A katana. They hadn’t used one since their first match—Yuuri always assumed it must have reminded Victor of how he lost Makka. So why these, why now?

Maybe Victor’s just trying to mess with him. Maybe he’s testing to see if he can confuse Yuuri to death.

If Yuuri didn’t know better, he’d say it was working, too.

“En garde,” Victor says, motioning for Makka to move, and taking a few steps back and raising his sword.

Yuuri falls into his stance, sucking in a breath as his muscles ache. Why does his body have to betray him like this? Though he supposes he betrayed it first. He lets out the air from his lungs, steadying himself before meeting Victor’s eyes. “Fence.”

For a moment it’s still, but Yuuri can’t stand it. Yuuri begins circling him, Victor echoing the motion. Normally Victor’s fairly aggressive right from the start, lashing out at Yuuri. On Yuuri’s bad days, when the anxiety has kept him from sleeping and he’s already exhausted from dance, he doesn’t stand a chance. But on his good days, Victor’s all-out assault will wear himself down slowly but surely, leaving Yuuri as the one with the advantage.

But today he’s doing nothing.

What the _hell_?

Yuuri strikes, something simple that Victor instantly blocks and pushes him back from.

And he doesn’t counterattack.

Something’s wrong, wrong, _wrong_. Yuuri attacks a few more times, and Victor’s blocks and parries are lightening-quick, but… _Wrong_. “What the hell are you doing?” he snaps.

Victor raises an eyebrow, breaths making small clouds in the chill air. “I could ask you the same thing. You can barely attack, what are you doing fencing?”

“I’m not _trying_ to fence to get to murder you. That’s _your_ motivation” Yuuri grinds his teeth together. “But you aren’t… you’re not even trying.”

“I refuse to fight a god who can hardly swing his blade.” Victor jumps back and then jabs forward, a simple move but one Yuuri barely blocks. Victor raises an eyebrow and smirks.

Yuuri bares his teeth. He wants a fight? _Fine_.

Yuuri strikes, hard enough that when Victor catches it, the metal’s ringing rattles up his arm. Victor’s eyes widen just slightly and Yuuri smiles, pulling back to feign a strike, moving around to catch Victor off-guard—

But Victor catches it.

“Now that’s more like it.” Victor grins as he swipes Yuuri’s blade away and swings for his chest.

Yuuri barely blocks it, shivering just slightly as he imagines what that would _feel_ like, to have the cold metal run through his chest, and…

Well, it doesn’t matter. Victor won’t do it. Yuuri won’t let him land a hit, not today. He swings, putting as much power and force behind it as he can with his burning muscles, legs wobbling underneath him as he presses forward.

Victor easily blocks him, but Yuuri parries right back. Sweat drips beneath Yuuri’s shirt, and Victor’s forehead is so damp that his bangs stick to it. Well then, hopefully this is enough to keep him entertained. Hopefully—

Victor swings his blade around, nearly knocking Yuuri over before he smacks Yuuri’s katana from his hand and the tip of Victor’s blade is aimed at Yuuri’s neck

Yuuri can’t help but swallow, the skin of his throat touching the cool edge, but not quite splitting around it.

“I believe I win this one,” Victor pants, his blade unmoving.

Yuuri eyes the steel, resisting the urge to gulp again. Is this how he’s going to try and take Yuuri’s life this time, decapitation? It isn’t how he dies, so on one hand that’s something to be grateful for. On the other hand, how is his body going to recover from _that_? And how much is it going to hurt?

With a deep breath, Yuuri curls his hands into fists. “I believe you do.”

And Victor, miraculously, drops his blade.

Yuuri’s knees nearly give out, but he holds himself upright, pulling himself together. That doesn’t mean anything. Victor still has his win to collect.

Something flashes across Victor’s face, an emotion too quick to catch. “Fitting, that you won first after I came down the initial time, and now I win. Makkachin’s even here, like before.”

Yuuri tenses up. This is different, Makka’s not on the line… Unless Victor’s aiming to try and take Makka with this match. Yuuri’s stomach sinks. They never established any rule that they couldn’t fight for Makka again, that they couldn’t switch ownership depending on who won the match, but if it’s always about Makka, what about the murder attempts? What about… What if Yuuri can’t beat Victor, even when he’s fully healed because now _Victor’s_ fully healed, too?

Yuuri dares to take a step forward. “I won Makka fair and square.”

“Well, yes, I suppose.” Victor blinks, and then tilts his head. “Arguable that it was fair and square, but you did win.”

“I did _not_ cheat.” Yuuri tightens his grip around the hilt of the katana. If he has to fight for Makka again, he will. He doesn’t want to, but he will.

“Oh, I wasn’t implying that you did.” Victor shrugs. “I wasn’t… It wasn’t you I was talking about with that. It doesn’t matter anymore, besides. It’s done now.”

“Is it?” Yuuri narrows his eyes, searching Victor’s face. “Because you’re the one who brought it up again.”

There’s a second of silence while Victor regards Yuuri, as if he’s measuring him against something unseen. “That wasn’t what I meant. As I said, you won, Yuuri. I’m not contesting that. Besides,” Victor grins, a small twitch of the lips, “it isn’t as if I don’t see Makka around most of the day. She does what she wants, regardless of what we want.”

Yuuri can’t help his lips turning up just slightly, even as his mind churns. Then what the hell was Victor reminiscing about? His defeat and how he lost Makka _again_? Gods, Yuuri can’t believe he did that to him… but there wasn’t another option. Maybe Makka does what she wants, but, well, so does Victor. Was he just rubbing Yuuri’s current defeat in Yuuri’s face? It doesn’t seem like that, however. Something’s different. _Wrong_. Victor doesn’t feel the same as he had before through their strange connection. It would be nice to just blame that on the fact that Victor has Yuuri’s power in him—he always has had at least a bit, and now it’s _more_. But it’s not that. Or at least, not entirely. Victor is still himself, regardless of what power he has, just like Yuuri is the same without being able to travel worlds, and having lost the ability to create life entirely.

Maybe it doesn’t matter, maybe it’ll be over when Otabek makes his move. But it’s not as if Yuuri can turn off his brain, and it isn’t as if he doesn’t want to know.

He lets out a huff of air. “I suppose Makka a very independent girl, isn’t she?”

Makka barks loudly, dancing on her front paws as she hears her name mentioned again and again.

Yuuri laughs softly. “Hold on girl, we’re almost done.”

“Hmm?” Victor tilts his head slightly. “But we’ve finished fencing, we _are_ done.”

Yuuri nods, biting the inside of his cheek. “Yes, we have. And you won.”

“Ah.” Victor shifts the blade in his hand again, drawing Yuuri’s eyes with the movement. So something’s going to be cut again today. Great. Having to recover while he’s still recovering—it pains Yuuri to think it, but maybe Victor was right before the match. This is going to take forever.

And damn, Victor’s taking a long moment to decide what he wants to do. How brutal is it going to be this time? How intricate and ridiculous? At least Yuuri knows that it shouldn’t be close to his mortal weakness, then. Ironically, overthinking won’t help Victor find it.

“Hold out your right hand, please.” Victor gestures at the offending body part with his blade.

_Please_? Since when was any part of these fights polite? It’s practically an insult, which would be more of Victor’s usual approach. Maybe he’s a little more subtle, finally being rested and fully alive.

Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek, raising his right arm.

“Ah, spread your fingers.” Victor nods at them.

Why doesn’t he do a little song and dance too, while he’s at it? But Yuuri does as he’s told.

Victor raises the weapon, and Yuuri turns away. There’s the whisper of the blade singing through the air, and he has just enough time to close his eyes before—

_Shit_ , that _stings_. Why did it have to be a _finger_? Yuuri grits his teeth, keeping on his feet somehow even as tears escape from his eyes. He holds his hand with the stump away from him, his whole body aching as the burning and itching builds to an awful crescendo in the stump of his… in his _pinky_?

That was the first thing that Victor took when he won after Yuuri took Makka with the first match. It’s impossible to forget. There’s no reason for Victor to take it off again, he doubts Victor even thought it would kill him in the first place, just that it would hurt after the whole Makka incident. But… why now? Why not try his left pinky, or some other finger he hasn’t tried? Why not his entire hand? _Why_?

“V-Victor.” Yuuri winces at his voice, stuttering over the pain and confusion. “You already cut off—” Yuuri hisses as his powers begin to burn inside of him, Victor taking a step away. “You already cut that one off.”

“Did I?” Victor turns away. “Makka, come here girl.”

Makka bounds over, wasting absolutely no time in attempting to knock Victor over. He scratches her ears, leaning down close to her ear and… whispering something? Yuuri’s pretty sure he sees his mouth move. But then, without turning back, without another word, he walks away.

_Wrong_.

The word is a chorus echoing around his head, fed by the pain and the fear. What… what’s going on? Gods, if Victor’s somehow sick again in a way that only Yuuri can help, could he risk healing Victor again? Maybe it would be a sign if it happened again, that Yuuri should stop trying to interfere with fate.

But Yakov wouldn’t have messed up like that, and he was the one in charge of fixing the botched job that Yuuri had done before. This has to be a different kind of wrongness, then. Another plan of some sort. Though none of Victor’s other awful plans had thrown him off so terribly…

Why can’t any of this ever be easy?

“Hey, you should probably get help for that.”

Yuuri nearly topples over, trying to step away from the new voice. Did Victor send someone to get him, does this somehow tie into his master plan of… what, exactly?

Then Yuuri catches sight of dark hair and dark eyes, letting out a shaking breath.

“Easy.” Otabek reaches out a hand, steadying Yuuri’s shoulder but letting go the instant Yuuri regains balance.

“Did you just pop up from the shadows or something?” Yuuri mutters, belatedly realizing that Makka’s nuzzling against his side and he hadn’t even noticed _that_. Not too much of a stretch he hadn’t noticed someone else approaching. Stupid, to let his guard down like this. “What are you even doing here?”

Otabek shrugs. “Yuri—well, Yurio, as everyone seems to call him—asked me to check after you, since he said he wouldn’t follow you with Mari here.”

A smile tugs at the corners of Yuuri’s lips, despite the pain pulsing through him. “He said that in so many words?”

Otabek snorts. “I might have paraphrased a bit. And Mari said you could use someone looking after you, so…”

What meddlers. Yuuri shakes his head—but cuts the motion short as his head spins.

“Do you want help with that?” Otabek gestures at the bloody flesh where his finger should be. “I’ve had some training with healing. My mom was a healer in the war.”

Otabek mentions it so easily, like he wasn’t a veteran, like some gods hadn’t wasted the eternities of their lives over some forgotten quibble. “How fortunate for me, then. Please, if you wouldn’t mind.” Yuuri offers him his hand.

With no hesitance, Otabek takes it and sets right to work. Yuuri clenches his teeth together to keep from crying out. It’s a little slower than his usual healer, but he’s not going to complain. Besides, it’s always the beginning that hurts the most.

Maybe it’s the pain, maybe it’s the exhaustion of healing, but a thought creeps into Yuuri’s brain: could Victor really have done this as a mercy? Could he have not wanted to kill Yuuri?

But why would he come back, why would he keep _fencing_ if he didn’t want Yuuri dead? Not to mention there’s Phichit and Chris—even Minami still isn’t talking. No, it doesn’t make any sense. It’s just what a smaller, weaker version of Yuuri would have wanted, it’s not the reality that he lives in. In this world, in this life, Victor wants to kill Yuuri, and there’s just no way to simply back down from something like that. Victor’s fully committed to his plans and his schemes, he’s left no room for questioning, even if he’s switching tactics now. Yuuri knows better. Everyone knows better. He needs to stop being ridiculous.

Eventually the pain plateaus, then dips down into something more manageable as the muscle fibers and the white of new bone begins to stretch out from Yuuri’s knuckle.

He lets out a deep breath, looking over at Otabek. He’s doing more than he has to, considering that he’s just a guest, and Victor was once a god that fought on his side of the battlefield. “Thank you.”

Otabek blinks, looking at Yuuri. “Of course. I can do it, I might as well since you, uh, can’t.”

Yuuri winces. “True. You just… I know you don’t truly owe us anything.”

“No, I don’t owe the Underworld anything.” His eyes meet Yuuri’s, firm and intense. “But I owe you for ending the war. Regardless of how it came to be, you’re the one who took the steps to end it. I’ll fight at your side to keep another one from breaking out, and you have to know there are dozens of other gods willing to do the same thing.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, and then shuts it. Some days it’s hard to remember that anyone likes him, with how easily Phichit and Minami were turned to weapons used to attack him. But he really is Death. That name carries a weight and a history he can’t ignore. “Thank you. I don’t suppose you’ve made any more progress? Victor was… well, he was strange this evening.”

After a second of hesitation, Otabek shakes his head. “No, I’m afraid not. If anything, today was quiet. Almost eerily so.”

“Are you saying we should instigate something to happen?” Yuuri raises an eyebrow.

“No,” Otabek snaps, nearly making Yuuri jolt away. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll get my work done, regardless of how easy or not it is. I’m always watching.”

How that manages to be slightly creepy and slightly comforting at the same time, Yuuri’s not sure. Still, he’ll take it. “Good. Then I’ll be ready to clean up the aftermath.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry ~~but also not at all in the least~~. I promised that from the flashbacks onward wouldn’t be as angsty, but I never promised it wouldn’t be confusing, did I? ;)
> 
> ALSO! THAT ICE ADOLESCENCE NEWS!!! PLS SCREAM WITH ME ABOUT THIS I’M D Y I N G   
> (Semi-related: I was in the Ice Speculation Zine and we got to post our pieces! So if you want 2k of canon-compliant dorks, [have at it.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17456165))
> 
> And, unrelated mushiness: This fic has somehow reached 10k views? And almost 1k kudos?? I’m dying so much rn??? I don’t know how this happened, but thank you all so much for your support and encouragement along the way. <3 I know I say it all the time, but every kudo and comment and share means the world to me and keeps me going. Thank you guys so much!!! <3 <3 <3
> 
> And!!! Thank you so much to [AceMoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet) for putting up with the ridiculous mess that is my words.
> 
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	19. XIX

Somehow, despite Victor being _Victor_ , things settle. More often than not, Yuuri finds himself accompanied by Otabek, Minami or Yurio, normally in some strange combination as he takes care of any business that Death has to deal with. Sometimes Makka’s around, but she seems to have business of her own to deal with. Which means that Yuuri has a hell of a hard time finding places to be alone, and the one furry companion he’d _like_ to have keeps traipsing off.

Yurio seems to have taken an interest in Otabek for whatever reason—Yuuri honestly can’t tell if he’s just never met someone who won’t put up with his bullshit from the very start, or his power and how it works is fascinating to Yurio, or both. Either way, it means that Yuuri can at least get _them_ to leave him alone sometimes. But Minami seems to be clingier than ever, especially when Otabek’s hanging around, despite Yuuri’s assurances. He’s practically a growth on Yuuri’s side, only peeling away to dance, and when he fences.

At least Victor, for whatever reason, isn’t doing much. He hasn’t fought against Otabek being here since that first day, and honestly Yuuri hasn’t seen much of him besides fencing. Not that he’d seen much of him before the incident that led to taking him to Yakov, but everything’s different, now.

Victor’s won all of the matches they’ve had over the past few days, but he rarely does anything dramatic to test Yuuri’s mortal weakness. He even brings out poison again, much to Yuuri’s chagrin. Though sometimes it seems like he just tests Yuuri with regular food, which is ridiculous. But, if Yuuri’s being honest, even Victor’s methods before could have been far crueler than they were; a finger is nothing compared to a limb or his neck or, heaven forbid, a vital organ. But this is so odd. Everything is so _wrong_.

This evening, though, Yuuri manages to get at least one thing right.

He wins the match.

Yuuri doesn’t demand anything for his win, knowing that anything he wants Victor would never give to him. So Victor sulks off, refusing to take Makka with him, just like old times.

Maybe that’s enough, having things regress. It a dangerous thought to have, to hope that it’s gone back to how it was. And, honestly, does he even _want_ it to go back? The stress of not knowing what Victor’s up to is excruciating, but at the same time, it almost seems like Victor’s doing nothing. He hates being in limbo more than anything, but… _but_ …

Wouldn’t it be nice if Victor didn’t want to kill him? But if he truly didn’t, they would wouldn’t be fencing. If Victor was really content to stop antagonizing Yuuri, he’d have just stayed in the Overworld. Yuuri may still be weak, he may be a failure, but even he has enough sense to know it’s ridiculous for Victor to have any sort of sympathy for him.

They’re both planning on doing something, and it’s a race to see who will bring down the other first.

Victor got what he wanted. Yuuri may not be trying to kill Victor, but they are enemies, now.

The evening passes quietly—or as quietly as it ever does with Yurio and Minami present. Chris glares daggers at Yuuri over dinner, Phichit murmurs to Victor, and Victor himself seems to avoid Yuuri’s gaze. Again, up to something, but it doesn’t matter. Otabek sits next to Yuuri, and assures him that he’s close to getting a handle on what’s going on, close to tearing up everything so that Yuuri can finally win this ridiculous pissing match.

Patience is a virtue, they say.

Yuuri sleeps like the dead, which—ironically—he rarely ever does. The morning is a blur of the same, watching dancing and itching to join in despite knowing he _shouldn’t_ , a private breakfast without Victor or his people, and then, well, the fencing match.

There’s frost on the ground, and Yuuri’s breaths come out in puffs despite the fact that he’s barely even moving yet. Makka hops around in the cold grass like it’s snow, and Yuuri can’t help but smile. Maybe it will actually snow this year. In fact, he could probably ask Yurio to help out with that… But no, it would be a waste, there’s no point in it. Really, he shouldn’t be thinking about playing snowball catch with Makka when Victor’s always about to make _another_ attempt on his life. He might have won yesterday, but it was by the skin of his teeth. Maybe even a mistake. He can’t measure up to Victor, not like this. Not ever, probably.

Speaking of… where is Victor? Sometimes he runs a bit late, but he’s past that now. Yuuri squints at the suns, at the slanted double-shadows they create. Maybe he’s ill—that would explain how he lost yesterday. Illness among gods is a rarity, but not unheard of. Though how Victor would have gotten it is beyond Yuuri.

He shakes his head. “Husband” or not, Victor’s not his responsibility. If he hears something about Victor being sick or whatnot, he’ll send a healer to take care of it until he’s better. He wouldn’t want to see Yuuri’s face, and he’s fine without seeing Victor’s.

But… what’s he going to do in the meantime?

Makka bounds back over to Yuuri with a _boof_ , and he kneels to get that spot around her ears, her leg shaking almost instantly. Maybe Victor’s just late. Maybe… No, it couldn’t be anything more serious, Yuuri would feel it. It’s his kingdom, and those threads woven through him tie him to Victor. They count for something, after letting him know that something was so very wrong with Victor before. And right now, well. Right now anything about Victor feels dull and repulsive, but it’s been like that since Yuuri had to destroy himself once again for Victor. It’s more likely what Yuuri feels toward him, nothing more.

He scowls, glancing around. They’d normally be done by now, and Yuuri would be getting back to work—it’s not like the dead and dying can manage themselves, and Mari has to get her list of souls from somewhere. Victor may be able to screw off and do whatever since Yuuri will never trust him with anything in the Underworld, but Yuuri has things to get done if he doesn’t want to screw up anything else as Death.

That’s it. It’s past time, Victor’s forfeited this match. Yuuri showed up, so he wins. Maybe he’ll demand something petty as compensation. Like have Victor fence in heels or something ridiculous like that. Besides, his legs would look—

No. No, no, _no._ Yuuri covers his face with his hands, moaning into it while Makka whines. Dammit all, he’s _past_ this. Victor may have been his childhood crush, may even be his fucking husband but _that_ is off the table. No thoughts of that sort are allowed. Ever. Yuuri’s going to break Victor’s plans and maybe even Victor, and he’ll be done with him. That’s it, there’s nothing more. Just because he’s acting a little bit nicer doesn’t mean anything.

Not that it stops his cheeks from being on fire.

Thank the cosmos that Victor didn’t manage to find any gods with an affinity for mind reading. Forget his mortal weakness, someone finding out _this_ would kill him.

“Uh, Yuuri?”

He springs up, nearly tripping over Makka; He drops his hands and the heat of his cheeks meets the frigid air, eyes widening as he catches the god standing there. “Phichit? What are you doing here?”

Phichit scowls, looking to the side. “Have you seen Victor?”

Yuuri freezes up. If he doesn’t know where Victor is, then… no. Nothing happened. Yuuri would _know_. “I haven’t. I was just about to head inside, since he hasn’t shown up. You haven’t seen him this morning, then?”

Phichit hesitates, and then shakes his head. “No. He seemed… He didn’t talk much last night. I was worried that…” His frown deepens. “It doesn’t matter, it’s not like you care.” And he turns to leave.

Yuuri strides after him, grabbing his shoulder before he can get inside, and turning him around. “Phichit, I know you’re convinced of whatever the hell it is going on in your mind, but I saved Victor’s life _twice_. And it wasn’t a damn free pass back to the living, either time. I may feel and think a lot of things towards Victor, but I… I do care.” And he hates it, he _hates_ it, he just wants to loathe Victor, to want him as dead as he wants Yuuri. Why can’t it be that easy? Why can’t their only meeting have been that first time in the snow, why does _Yuuri_ have to be the one who remembers? Why does he still have that stupid flower in his room? He can’t erase those years. He… he’s not even sure he wants to.

Phichit stares at him with wide eyes for a long moment, long enough that Yuuri lets go and takes a step back. It’s just like he can’t erase his friendship with Phichit, just like he can’t forget how loyal Minami used to be. He’s a failure, he’s screwed up, but Yuuri’s not sure even he deserves something like this.

At least he won’t have to endure it much longer. Otabek said that he can help, he said there’s something here for him to work with. It’ll be done, and Yuuri can go back to his usual existence, a more pathetic Death than ever.

“Fine.” Phichit lets out a breath. “He’s been different. I know you’ve noticed, but I dunno. He’s not talking about something, and—well, that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that no one’s seen him today, he’s missed the fencing match, and I think I’ve looked everywhere, except his room.”

Yuuri blinks. “You honestly haven’t checked his room? Shouldn’t that be the first place you check?”

Phichit huffs, crossing his arms. “Yeah, but I’ve never been in there, and you have that stupid spell or curse or whatever.”

“Only the invited can go into someone’s rooms.” Oh. Well, that does make it a bit awkward.

“I don’t expect you to help. But I have to keep looking.” Phichit juts out his chin, but Yuuri sees the gesture for what it is. Phichit’s worried. No matter what else is going on, Phichit genuinely cares about Victor.

Yuuri sighs, not even bothering to hold it back at this point. “Come on.” He waves at Phichit to follow, calling Makka as he retrieves his cane and starts moving.

He has to check a few times to make sure Phichit’s following, the man is so quiet. It’s a little bit creepy, if Yuuri’s being honest. But he does tag along, at enough of a distance that it gives Yuuri the freedom to get lost in his thoughts.

The last time he trekked to this corner of the mansion, he was with Makka, too. But this time they’re much less rushed, Makka’s tongue lolling from her mouth as she trots around, sniffing the walls and the decorations and sometimes leaping on ahead as if chasing some invisible creature along the hall. Honestly, she may be for all Yuuri knows. This mansion has been Death’s home long before his family was even in the trade of such things. You’d think the turnover rate wouldn’t be so high for gods that can sense the death around them, but maybe it just gets to be too much. Maybe being Death comes with the terrible luck that Yuuri’s had throughout his life. He wouldn’t know just quite yet, though. He’s still so new at the job, in comparison to others.

So new, and already drawing in so many troubles.

He can’t help the way his heart rate picks up as they walk down the corridor and toward the door he knows is Victor’s. It’s morning instead of night, Makka’s been with him, and the door isn’t even cracked open, but it’s still far too reminiscent of the last time for Yuuri’s comfort. Reasonably, there’s nothing unbearably bad that he can walk in on—at least, that’s what he tries to convince himself of. Victor’s fixed, he won’t be like last time. He can’t be. Not even like the time before that, not unless—

Phichit clears his throat, making Yuuri jump slightly ad very belatedly realize that they’ve been standing outside of Victor’s room for way too long, and yet Yuuri still doesn’t have the courage to open the door. He reaches out a hand, but hesitates. Phichit probably doesn’t want him to go in— _Victor_ probably doesn’t want Yuuri in his own room. Assuming he’s even in there.

He drops his hand. “I’ll try and make a workaround so that you can get in, it should one take a few minu—”

“Go.” Phichit stares at him, eyes dark with some emotion that Yuuri can’t read.

“But, I… you…” But _so many things_. Phichit still doesn’t trust him, for one. Despite the logic, he can’t. Hell, even if nothing fishy were going on, if Yurio had been hurt by someone, of course Yuuri would loathe them, and they’ve known each other for as long as Phichit and Victor have.

Phichit takes a deep breath, his fingers curling into fists. “Go.”

Yuuri blinks, grasping at feelings while they slide fluid through his fingers, wanting to find words and failing. So instead he just nods, steeling himself for just a second before he reaches out, opens the door, and steps in.

It’s pitch dark in the room, other than the light seeping in from the door, being pushed wider as Makka trots inside.

“Victor?”

Just like the last time, there’s no answer. His voice almost seems muffled in the darkness, too quiet.

Unlike last time, however, Makka leaps up onto the bed, causing a grunt to ring out.

Yuuri narrows his eyes. As grumbled, garbled words begin to seep from the bed, Yuuri strides across the room as best he can in the dark, fumbles for a second, and then yanks the curtains open.

Victor is in bed. He’s in bed, moaning at the sunlight, and petting Makka. He’s also shirtless, which doesn’t help.

“Do you have _any_ idea how worried people were about you?” Yuuri hisses, curling his hands into fists. “People” being Phichit and himself, but he’s not about to admit it, not when there’s something burning under his skin, fueled by the fact that Victor just decided to _sleep in_ and not tell anyone. Maybe Victor having some master plan to take Yuuri down is too much, maybe he’s just an idiot.

“I was sleeping.” Victor’s hair is mussed as he sits up, the blanket sliding down his chest and—Yuuri looks away, out the window. “As you can plainly see.”

“You missed our fencing match!” Yuuri snaps, hoping that Victor can’t see the heat in his cheeks. This is the man trying to kill Yuuri. He’s cut Yuuri’s pinky off _twice_ , he’s got a vendetta because Yuuri’s saved Victor’s _life_ , this is _ridiculous_. Victor’s tired and looked extremely sleep-softened, but he’s still the same god he was yesterday. “Phichit got me so that we could make sure you’re okay.”

Victor snorts. “I’m as okay as I ever was, I suppose.”

Yuuri narrows his eyes, barely resisting the urge to glare at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“What do you care?” Victor counters.

There’s a rustle of sheets, and Yuuri dares a glance as Makka drapes herself across Victor’s lap. Victor frowns as he tugs her closer, playing with her fur.

“Why do I have to keep proving this damn point?” Yuuri takes a step forward, for once standing taller than Victor. “Even _Yurio_ gets it, and he’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever known! I’ve saved you _twice_. I haven’t killed you despite you trying to kill me. And I haven’t done anything to you for being such a bastard, either. You can’t kill me while you’re in bed, so come on. I saved your ass, you’d better make it an ass worth saving.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be worth saving”

The words are so quiet that Yuuri almost doesn’t hear them above his own breathing and the scratching of fingers through fur. But he did hear them, despite the fact that he almost wishes he didn’t. All of the heat running through him seems to seep out as he looks at Victor, hiding behind his messy bangs as his focus stays on Makka.

Yuuri crosses his arms to keep his hands from shaking. “Are you saying that I haven’t saved you? _Twice_? One of those times while you were trying to _kill me_? I… I’m _Death_ , and if I don’t think you deserve to die, you don’t. Okay?” His voice cracks a little on that last word and he winces—another thing he wishes he could take back. At this rate, he should be the God of Regrets, especially with the number of times he’s saved Victor. Who never wanted to be saved in the first place.

Victor looks up at him then, blue eyes almost glimmering in the morning light. If Yuuri were brave, he might admit that they looked more like the summer sky on a cloudless day than the bitter ice he’s come to know so intimately, but he’s not. Victor talking like this makes his heart thunder in his chest, but he can’t tell _why_. Because he is afraid, yes, but it’s different than when Victor’s picking up his sword against him, it’s different than when Victor had promised to kill him.

“Why?” It’s so soft coming out of Victor’s mouth that Yuuri realizes that it’s not just the morning light that makes Victor’s eyes shine.

Yuuri’s heart beats even faster and _he can’t take it_. He begins to stride away from the windows, making sure Makka doesn’t follow as he goes—he doesn’t need her as badly right now. “You forfeited this morning’s match by not showing up. Maybe if you show up and win the evening’s match, you can ask that question as your prize.”

And then Yuuri does the only thing he can do: he brushes past a wide-eyed Phichit, and he runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this chapter we’re at/a little past the half-way point! A pretty fitting midpoint, I think. ;)
> 
> Holy carp, there’s been more art! I cannot believe this, I cry, they’re so pretty hOW DO I HAVE SUCH TALENTED PEOPLE READING MY WORDS??? Here’s a gorgeous illustration of Yuuri dancing to the dead over here on [Tumblr](http://kazul9.tumblr.com/post/182226960343/booksen-yuuri-dancing-the-dead-from-kazul9-s) by [booksen](http://booksen.tumblr.com/)! And here’s absolutely stunning portraits of Victor and Yuuri on [Tumblr](http://kazul9.tumblr.com/post/182303096523/rosereleasestheart-for-the-lovely-kazul9) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/rosereleasesart/status/1088851726122156032) by [rosereleasestheart](http://rosereleasestheart.tumblr.com/)/[rosereleasesart](https://twitter.com/rosereleasesart/)!!! I’M DYING YOU GUYS THEY’RE SO PRETTY, PLS SMOTHER THEM BOTH WITH THE LOVE THEY DESERVE!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Thank you so much to [AceMoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet) for reading and betaing this mess! And thank YOU guys for reading, and bless everyone who comments, you give me life.
> 
> Related: I typically try to respond to comments asap, especially on posting days, but I’m going car shopping for my mom today (ew), so it might take me until tomorrow to respond. But!!! I still appreciate every single comment and they make my day. <3 <3 <3


	20. XX

Victor loses the evening match.

Part of Yuuri has to wonder if he threw it, if Victor really doesn’t want to know the reasons behind Yuuri’s actions—and Yuuri doesn’t blame him. He didn’t want to know anything he heard or saw of that morning, he didn’t want to develop any more sympathy for a man that’s trying to kill him, and yet… Yuuri sighs. Everything feels like an uphill battle, even when he’s making progress. It would have been nice if it were obvious that Victor had thrown it, or if he’d honestly tried, but no matter how much Yuuri analyzes every movement, he can’t tell. And it’s not as if he can ask.

There is a bright side, though. Since he’s won two matches, even if they were flukes, he thinks he’s ready to take back dancing from the younger gods in the morning. Maybe it’ll make him weaker for the fencing matches, but does it matter? There’s an itch under his skin whenever he watches Yurio and Minami fill his position; he knows that they aren’t doing enough. There’s a hushed murmur around the pools constantly, one that’s never fully quelled. Yuuri may not be an amazing Death, but he’s been dancing for a _long_ time.

Something electric buzzes through him as he passes his cane and doesn’t pick it up, instead motioning to Makka to come as they leave his rooms. He normally doesn’t bring her to the dancing itself, but he doesn’t want to be completely alone. He’s asked Minami and Yurio to not come this morning, but who knows if they’ll follow his instructions. Who knows if Phichit, Chris, and Victor will listen.

He doesn’t see or sense anyone as he walks out toward the pools. There’s only the soft pad of Makka’s feet beside him, and the whispering of the dead and their nonsense words. His own slippers don’t make a sound against the frigid earth, same as his feet wouldn’t. The waters still recognize him though, spilling onto the shore in small waves that Makka shies away from. Yuuri leans down and pets Makka, telling her to sit before he steps out onto the edge of the mountain.

It’s so different. The last time he’d stood here, it had been barely fall, the trees still growing. Now all that keeps him company are the dead, the wind gently whispering its song into Yuuri’s ear.

He begins to move with it, shivering as the smooth fabric of his robes swirls around him, against his skin in a way so familiar that it’s practically a comfort. The motions feel heavier than they had before, and in truth Yuuri isn’t sure if it’s because of his injury or because of what he lost to save Victor. He’d never danced alone before having given up a part of himself the first time, so maybe it would have been easier before that even. And yet, even as he finds the movements harder to fall into, he craves them.

The dead wrap around him, shining in the sunrise and casting soft rainbows in the moisture that glitters in the air. The emotions of the dead build around him, in him, and there’s a fullness to Yuuri he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. He’s lost the ability to create life and so much more than that, but… there’s a satisfaction in dancing with the dead. Something he hasn’t been able to feel in a while.

He twirls along the edge of the pools, pulling them towards peace, the warmth and serenity filling his chest that he grows and feeds with his movements.

Maybe having Victor here has helped, in some twisted way. Creating and nurturing life isn’t an option. It was never his specialty, anyway. His dreams were ridiculous, even if they were special, but this? This is special too, in a different way. His body sings with the movements, joins with the humming of the dead, shimmering in the suns’ early rays. It’s almost… freeing, in a way. Yurio and Minami have to follow the movements, perfect them, but they don’t _feel_ them like Yuuri does. They can’t adjust their movements without breaking the dance like he can.

Maybe he’s not the best Death there ever was, but he _is_ Death. And maybe, past the sour regret of losing the ability to create life, underneath the stress and weight of what’s going on now, he enjoys it a bit.

In a smooth motion, he raises his arms, releasing the warmth and peace from within him and into the malleable spirits around him, their presence drifting away as they accept it. The whispering music inside him drifts to a halt, and his legs give out beneath him, his breaths coming in pants. The water falls back into the pools at his feet, a delicate mist that blends in with the steam of the hot pools in the cool air. Yuuri can barely see his own breath among it, the suns making the fog glow and shimmer.

Yuuri smiles slightly as Makka bounds over to him and nuzzles into his side. It really is beautiful. Maybe this could actually be enough for him.

“Well, you _can_ dance for the dead still. Looks like you aren’t completely useless after all.”

It’s as if the light dulls around Yuuri while he turns and looks behind him.

Chris stands on one of the wider paths between the pools, arms crossed, mouth curled in a sneer.

Yuuri lifts his chin as he stands, even while his chest tightens. He’s practically naked without his cane or a sword in his hand. But at least Chris’s power isn’t a threat, and Yuuri _could_ call on the dead if he had too. He’s safe. He’ll be fine. They said only Victor’s allowed to harm him, and they only watch. Even if Chris has been a little more aggressive lately… “I’m still trying to figure out how _you_ aren’t useless. All I ever hear from you are empty words and even emptier threats. You’re a leashed dog. Go back to your master, I have things to do.”

He strides forward as best he can on legs that shake and burn slightly from movements they’re no longer used to, brushing past Chris with Makka growling at his side.

But Chris grabs his shoulder turning him around, eyes on fire. “You have no _idea_ what I’m capable of.”

Yuuri only barely resists the urge to step back, knowing the pools are right behind him. Not even Death can control those waters. He frowns at Chris. “You don’t want to pick a fight with me.”

More like _Yuuri_ doesn’t want any of them to pick a fight with him, but hopefully the threat sticks. He’s still recovering from saving Victor, and he’s tired from dancing to the dead—it’s not exactly a great combination.

“Oh? What are you going to do?” Chris leans in closer. “I know you don’t have the guts to kill me. You can’t even kill Victor, despite what you’ve done to him.”

What _he’s_ done to Victor? Yuuri shoves Chris away, nearly toppling him into the water. “What the hell is _wrong_ with you? What did Victor make you believe? I can’t believe how often I have to repeat myself: _I_ saved his sorry ass, and now in return he’s trying to murder me! And _you_. What, do you want your friend dead? Is that why you want to kill me, you raging lunatic?”

Chris’s face turns red, his eyes widening as his hands curl into fists.

Okay, maybe that was a low blow—for all Yuuri knows, none of it was Chris’s fault or choice. And for all Chris knows, Yuuri’s just evil incarnate. It’s just so _exhausting_ to be seen as the bad guy when he tries so damn hard. He may not be the best god in the Underworld, but shouldn’t he get _some_ slack for effort?

“You think I don’t _know_?” Chris steps forward, raising his fist. “You son of a—”

Yuuri moves in a flash, a blur of movement that pulls at what little energy he has left, but _this_ is unacceptable. He catches Chris’s fist in his hand, leaning in so close that Chris can’t get away. “Insult my mother, and I will take you down where you stand. You may think I’m weak, but do you really want to test that?” He leans in closer, whispering in his ear. “Your death is rather painless, isn’t it? More pleasurable than anything, how lucky for you. But I know how to cause pain in any situation. And I _will_ make it hurt.”

Chris shoves him away. “ _Fuck_ you, I don’t care what anyone says, I’ll kill you before—”

“Hey!”

“ _Stop!_ ”

Wind whips through the air, announcing someone Yuuri couldn’t mistake for anyone else. He steps forward, in front of Chris as a wall between him and the newcomers. He turns around, and—

There’s three of them.

Minami and Yurio are running forward, far too fast along the slippery shores to be safe, but trailing behind them, slow and meticulous, is Phichit.

He’s wildly outnumbered. This is like the incident with Mila, but now it’s Yurio here, and Yurio is far less calm than Mila—which doesn’t bode well considering Mila punched Chris in the face by the end of it. And this time he’s weaker, too.

Fuck.

“What are you doing here?” Minami stomps up to Chris glaring at him.

Chris frowns, brow furrowing. “This isn’t any of your business, you traitor.”

Minami grimaces, looking away. “You know I’m not.”

“What the _fuck_.” Yurio pushes past Yuuri and Minami. “Yuuri asked this _one damn time_ to be left alone while dancing, what’s wrong with you?”

“What isn’t wrong with him,” Phichit mutters as he gets closer, just loud enough to be heard.

Everyone goes quiet, the air full of crackling static as everyone exchanges glances and glares, Makka’s form slowly growing larger as Yuuri’s mind scrambles. Hell, he was worried about protecting Yurio, not even thinking to try and stop the fallout of everyone going head to head in the middle of the pools. This _won’t_ end well.

Unless Yuuri can prevent it.

“What’s going on here?”

Well, now they’re all really fucked, aren’t they? Victor strides from the direction of the house, looking a little disheveled, but better than yesterday morning. At least he’s up and dressed, but why does he have to be _here_?

“What are you doing here?” Yuuri snaps, desperately trying to keep the attention off of everyone and their conflicts—hell, if he knew there was so much tension between everyone under Victor’s wing, well, he was going about his planning all wrong from the start.

“You’re late for your fencing match.” Victor’s eyes meet his for just a second. “I thought I’d return the favor.”

“What?” Chris steps forward, only to be blocked by Minami.

“Whatever it is, it’s none of your business, you brainless… lackey!” Minami’s insult might be hilarious given any other context, but with how Chris’s eyes flash, it’s _not_ funny.

“It doesn’t matter.” Yuuri jabs an arm between them. “We’re done here.”

“We are _not_ done here, not after what _you_ just said.” Chris turns to him.

“You’re the one who cornered me, what did you expect?” Yuuri faces him, not backing down.

“You cornered him?” Victor’s voice is closer; dammit all. “Minami said that he was supposed to be left alone this morning.”

That jolts Yuuri back. Victor was listening to what Yuuri said? He hadn’t even suggested to Victor or anyone other than Minami that they stay away, because Yuuri knows better than to ask for something he’ll never receive. Except that Victor _did_? But he couldn’t get anyone else to listen.

“Minami told us,” Phichit confirms. “I was talking to Yurio and Minami when we heard yelling.”

Yuuri shrugs, trying again to grasp control of the situation. “Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Chris came. Victor, if you can’t control your minions, our deal is moot.”

Victor’s eyes widen, just a bit. “They’re not—”

“I do not _belong_ to him.” Chris bares his teeth. “Just because _you_ lord over your gods doesn’t mean that _Victor_ does.”

“He doesn’t fucking order _anyone_ around you shitbag,” Yurio jabs a finger at him.

Minami steps forward. “Yuuri’s not like that!”

“Neither is Victor!” Phichit snaps.

Victor starts yelling for them to be quiet, but no one listens, and Makka starts barking and growling by Yuuri’s side. Yuuri can barely pick out anything that anyone’s saying anymore. The situation is beyond lost, people accusing, fists balled, and it’s just a matter of time until someone makes the first move. If Victor can’t control his people, so angry and aggressive and prone to try and attack Yuuri, what’s _Yuuri_ going to do?

Yuuri takes a step back, trying to breathe, trying to think—and he hits something solid.

He spins around stifling his scream, and then stifling the urge to punch Otabek in the face.

“I’m sorry.” Otabek’s mouth quirks up for just a second before he looks past Yuuri and at the mass of anger and shouting behind him. “But I’m also not entirely. It’s clearer than I’ve ever seen it before, by an absurd amount. I don’t think we’re going to have an opportunity this perfect again.”

Yuuri spins back around, paying more attention to the way that the air crackles and almost shimmers with the anger and resentment and… pain? It’s something he’s used to seeing in the dead, but not an emotion that seems to fit in here. “Oh,” he murmurs. It makes sense. Everything makes so much more sense. He turns back toward Otabek. “You can do it then? Right now? Quickly?” He adds the last bit on as Yurio practically shrieks.

Otabek glances around. “Yes, but we need to make sure that no one falls in the pool—when it’s over, it may be shocking. And I can’t get a grasp on it when it’s writhing like this. I need a small window of calm.”

Yuuri does not hesitate, ducking around Chris and grabbing Yurio’s shoulder. “I need wind. Knock everyone over, onto the path. Now.”

“Why the fuck would you want—”

“Yurio, _now_.” Yuuri snaps.

Yurio’s eyes go wide, and before Yuuri can try to explain more, a huge gust of wind slams into his side, making him stumble away. He nearly regains his balance before it hits him again, sending him tumbling back down the path, and toward the edge— _shit_.

“Stop!” Yuuri screams, trying to dig his fingers into the earth and failing, the edge getting closer, and—

It stops.

Yuuri lets out a shaky breath. Dammit all, why hasn’t he spent more time making sure Yurio has a grasp of his powers? He’s the only God of Storms down here, and it’s not as out of hand as it used to be, but holy hell. He gets himself upright just in time to see Otabek reaching out and grasping something invisible in his hand, his eyes distant. He hears movement somewhere around him, he knows he should pay attention and make sure that no one dies on his watch, but he can’t look away.

This is it.

Victor’s reign of terror won’t be over, but he’ll be alone in it if this works. If Yuuri’s right, he’ll be able to stop him from making another move.

But that’s what it comes down to: Yuuri being right. And he doesn’t exactly have a great track record.

Otabek _yanks_ , pulling whatever’s in his hand from the air, and Yuuri can feel the _snap_ , even if he can’t hear it. There’s a rush through the air, just as powerful as the wind that had just come, but not a hair on Yuuri’s head moves. His head swims with it, all the emotions he sensed in the air moving through him, dragging him down the same way the dead would without the precise control of his dance, and then—

“It’s done.” Otabek drops his hand, meeting Yuuri’s eyes.

Trembling, Yuuri turns around. Everyone else is spread across the ground, in various stages of getting up, Victor being the only one standing. Eyes are wide, mouths are open, all of them surely feeling the same emptiness as Yuuri, now that the force of the emotions have moved through them. Whatever it was that was in the air is gone, and nothing remains but the steam of the pools and the huffing of breath.

Otabek was thorough. Yuuri shouldn’t expect anything less, there was a reason he was Yakov’s top soldier in the last phase of the war. After all, a god that can cancel out another gods’ power makes them all but mortal. Heaven forbid if Otabek had been born in the Underworld; combining his power with Death’s ability to know how to kill anyone would have been too powerful, and many of the Overworld gods would have been wiped out. It wouldn’t have even been a fight.

But right here and right now, they aren’t trying to kill anyone. Right now, they’re breaking whatever hold Victor had over Minami, Phichit, and maybe Chris.

Minami’s the first to his feet, staring around at everyone with wide eyes. “No! What…? What have you _done_?”

Yuuri flinches back. _What_? He looks around at the others, trying to see if any damage was done.

Yurio just looks as confused as Yuuri. But Chris is pale, eyes wide and horrified as he falls back down to the ground. Phichit takes longer to react, but eventually a sob escapes from his mouth, crawling out like an animal as tears begin to stream down his cheeks. And Victor… he’s not stomping over angrily, or running, or anything Yuuri had expected. Instead, he’s bowed over, his face in his hands as he takes quick and shallow breaths. As if he’s trying to cope like Phichit and Chris.

And _unlike_ Minami.

Yuuri turns back to the young god, who’s looking around anxiously, but is acting _nothing_ like the others.

“Minami… Did you…?” Yuuri can’t even say it.

He stops moving, those wide brown eyes boring into Yuuri’s. It can’t be. It has to be.

“It was him.” Otabek’s voice is so bland and emotionless compared to the thoughts that scream and tear through Yuuri’s head as he tries and fails to process what he’s uncovered. “Minami was emotionally manipulating them.”

Yuuri was right, then. They were being manipulated.

But, gods, he wishes he had been wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder, murder is illegal!!! And if you murder me you don’t get the explanation behind all this!!!!!! (I will explain more next chapter, I promise!!!!!!!!!!)
> 
> To everyone wondering why Minami has been acting so strange, well. Surprise?
> 
> *ehem* To make it up to you guys (kinda?), someone asked if I had a Discord channel and it made me think; would you guys like that? I have an empty server that I mostly just use to do word sprints with myself, but I could definitely open it up! I’d post when the word games go up, and I could share the previews of the chapters on the Pillowfort/Tumblr posts a day or two early? And if you wanna just lurk for that stuff, that’d be totally fine! It'll probably be pretty quiet, tho. So would you guys be interested? I made [a Twitter poll over here](https://twitter.com/Kazul9/status/1091340309093584896) if you’re not up for leaving a comment atm, and I’ll probably post the join link on Twitter/Tumblr in a couple days if you guys vote yes.
> 
> Anyhow!!! Bless [AceMoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet) for betaing this mess! Ad thank you guys for ~~somehow~~ for trusting me enough to keep reading this story.  <3 <3 <3 I 
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	21. XXI

All Yuuri can do is stare at Minami. He should say something. He should _do_ something. Minami’s a god who he’s supposed to be in charge of, that he’s supposed to punish in situations like this, but he can’t imagine _how._

It doesn’t make sense. Minami tried to warn him at the very beginning about Victor’s intentions. He tried to warn him at least once afterward. But on the other side of the coin, Minami got close to Yuuri again. He was the one who got worried about Otabek coming. Victor was upset at first, but he didn’t fight it. He’s barely fought anything since he came back down.

What changed?

And why does Minami…?

“You _bastard_!” Yurio jumps up from where he was on the ground, lunging at Minami, who whimpers and turns away. Makka’s three heads bark in protest.

Victor moves in a flash, catching Yurio and holding him away. “Yuri, stop.”

“What? He’s been _controlling_ you somehow, and you’re defending him?” Yurio claws at Victor’s arms, wind rustling through trees as clouds build in the distance. “What’s _wrong_ with you? Does he still have you under his fucking spell?”

“It’s gone,” Otabek answers Yurio, but turns to Yuuri. “Completely. I told you it was complicated. Minami’s work was elementary, at best, but that wasn’t what was holding it in place.”

“But Minami did it in the first place?” Yuuri stands up, legs and head and chest aching, his limbs loose and weak. “Minami’s the one who… He made everyone want to…” Gods, Minami’s the one who really wants to kill him? If that’s the case, then the same excuses—and Yuuri knows well that’s what they are, excuses—that have kept him from ending Victor don’t apply to Minami. His family isn’t influential like Phichit’s, so even though Yuuri personally likes them, it wouldn’t work in an argument. Killing Minami wouldn’t start a war, but…

He can’t do this.

 _He can’t do this_.

“No. He didn’t mean to.” Victor looks over to Yuuri, face blank. “But I did.”

“You…?” Yuuri tries to pull his scrambling thoughts together. Victor’s the God of Spring, his powers are fairly straightforward. He might be capable of some manipulation, but it wouldn’t be as subtle as a god designed to control—a god like Minami, apparently. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe not, but it’s the truth.” There isn’t even a slight flinch in Victor’s eyes, no hesitation. He really believes this. But is it because he still believes whatever Minami wanted him to believe, or something else?

“So it was _you_?” Yurio switches targets, and instead of trying to break free of Victor, pushes toward him. “Of course it was you, you piece of _shit_. You were always the one trying to kill him!”

It would almost make sense. Victor was the only one allowed to try and kill Yuuri, and it would’ve been faster to just have everyone try to find Yuuri’s weakness. But for Victor it was personal, Victor had a vendetta against Yuuri, his feelings seemed to be fueling everyone else’s, not Minami. Not to the point of murder.

Yuuri’s head spins, and he barely resists the urge to kneel back down. This is too much. He needs to _think_ , but there’s no time when Yurio’s attacking whoever he can, Phichit’s still crying, Chris looks like he might pass out, and Minami and Victor—well, Yuuri sure as hell doesn’t know.

Minami jumps forward, yanking at one of Yurio’s arms. “It’s all my fault, leave him alone! If I hadn’t—”

Yurio yanks his arm away, smacking Minami in the chest and pushing him away in the process. “Holy _fuck,_ get your story straight! Who the hell did this?”

“I did.” Victor’s face falls, just minutely. Something so small that Yuuri wouldn’t have caught if he hadn’t been spending so much time around him. “I made Minami what he is. I did. The power is his, he had control of us all, but I’m the one who fed him—who fed this.” He glances down at Minami. “He’s had enough, let him rest.”

Yuuri sways on his feet, wishing again that he’d had the sense to bring his cane. “Minami, is this true?”

“I…” Minami swallows, looking between Victor and Yuuri. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t _know_?” Yurio spits. “Well someone has to!”

“I do.” Victor turns back to Yuuri. “I’ll explain.”

How the hell is he so _calm_? Unless… he isn’t. Unless maybe he uses the same mask that Yuuri wears at times. Taking a deep breath, Yuuri nods. “All right. I’ll speak to you privately—no exceptions.” He shoots Yurio a look when he inevitably opens his mouth. “Yurio, you’ll help Chris inside to his room, Minami, you and Phichit settle in your own. Victor and I will talk alone.” Even if for some reason Yuuri’s heart pounds faster than ever at the prospect of being isolated with Victor—more so than the fencing matches, even. He’s not sure if it’s fear or something else, but the emotion still rises in his throat and threatens to choke him.

For a moment Yurio glares at him before muttering, “Fine,” and helping Chris get to his feet. Minami scrambles over to Phichit’s side, the latter trying desperately to rub away tears as they still fall. Makka trots over to Phichit, shoving her face into his chest, and the ghost of a smile spreads on his lips. The spark that ignited them all into a fury before seems to be gone, but Yuuri’s not entirely sure he trusts it all to be over.

He turns to Otabek, still silent and watching this all play out. “Please watch them while I’m gone, and come and get me if anything seems remotely wrong.”

Otabek simply nods at him, so Yuuri glances at Victor.

They need somewhere quiet, where no one would disturb them… Well, there’s one place that would work.

“Follow me,” Yuuri orders, and begins walking back toward the house. His skin crawls with the knowledge that the enemy is _right behind him_ , but he doesn’t allow himself to look back. He doesn’t want to know what he’ll see. After all, their deal might no longer be valid, Yuuri’s not sure. If Minami wasn’t keeping Victor so tangled up in his hate, what’s to stop Victor from doing whatever he wants?

Though that seems to be the constant question lately for all things Victor.

“This place?” Victor mutter, voice a little rough.

Yuuri nearly trips up at the sound of his voice. “Yes, here. Anywhere inside, someone may interrupt. This is mine.”

Victor hums his acknowledgment, though Yuuri can’t exactly tell how he really feels about it—obviously he’s not very pleased to be going into Yuuri’s personal gardens. Perhaps being surrounded by Yuuri’s old energy reminds him of the fresh dose lurking inside himself, or maybe it’s just because this is where he learned that Makka was still alive. Regardless, Yuuri keeps his mouth shut. He chose the place, and he’s sticking with it.

He leads them into the unfinished maze, avoiding the rougher parts he still hadn’t polished all of those years ago, until he reaches the center. This was where he was keeping his more daring experiments, combinations and colors supposedly impossible—but they never came to fruition. They’re still new and green as they sit stuck in time, an odd contrast to the chill that laces the air, sneaking beneath the weight of Yuuri’s robes. A bench sits in the center, but Yuuri doesn’t sit despite his tired legs.

“You never finished this because… you saved me?” Victor murmurs, reaching down and stroking what looks to be a rose bush.

For one moment, Yuuri dares to dream that Victor will make it sprout and grow, that Victor might take this garden and care for it like Yuuri wishes he himself could. But when he drops the leaves and looks up at Yuuri, they’re still as young as ever. Yuuri sighs. “Yes. But we both know that story well enough. I don’t think there are many secrets left there. Now, Minami, however…”

“It isn’t his fault.” Victor almost snaps the words, but there’s something missing in the bite of them. “I said that before, and I mean that. He may blame himself, but everything that’s happened up until now started with me.”

Yuuri crosses his arms. “All right. I’m listening.”

Victor looks away, taking a breath. “This started shortly after… well, when we first met.”

Internally, Yuuri cringes at the idea of _that_ being their first meeting, but he knows better than to interrupt, and simply nods.

“I was… upset. Very upset.” He turns his attention back to the plants growing at his feet, fingers gently fiddling with the leaves. “But I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think there was anything _to_ do. So when the peace treaty was finalized, and your gods came up, well.” He shrugs. “I was forced to go out and greet them. Minami cornered me because he was feeling down too and wanted to connect in the strange, new environment, I suppose. Everything went… relatively smoothly, until Minami’s powers presented.”

He takes a moment, collecting himself. It’s all Yuuri can do not to push him—but he’s finally _so close_ to the truth that he can’t risk it.

“Well,” Victor says his words slowly, carefully.“Despite feeling betrayed by you, Minami would still sing your praises from time to time, and one day I just… snapped.” I ranted and said…” His eyes flick up to Yuuri for a brief second. “Well, it doesn’t matter what exactly I said, but Minami’s bitterness had been building for a while then, and it mingled with mine, and I felt… angry. So, so angry. He didn’t recognize it for what it was at the time, but I did. I could feel him doing something to me. I could have pushed it off, I could have corrected him, reported to Yakov what had happened and he’d have been put with a tutor to teach him how to control it. He’d wrapped it around himself, caught in his own emotional manipulation so that he couldn’t tell what he was earnestly feeling—a vicious cycle. But I didn’t tell a soul. The anger felt… good. Not to be sad and alone and in mourning for a mortal dog that I might not remember by the end of my existence. So, I fed it.”

“Fed it?” Yuuri’s voice is so soft, a question that he doesn’t want to ask, but needs to.

Victor’s lip twitches down. “I made it grow, same as I would the plants in spring. Minami’s anger pushed me to keep it blooming, and he couldn’t escape his own feelings now that they were held over him. Neither of us had the mind to resist, or fight it after a while. We barely had a choice, but…”

Victor stands up, moving over to perch on the bench, leaning down and staring at the ground. “I hated you,” he whispers. “I tried to come down and see if I could end you myself, but the mansion was too well guarded by the power of Death, and the Underworld was draining me. So I came back and roped Minami into making a plan. I didn’t tell him… well, he never knew the extent of my intentions. But I knew I needed more people to get all the pieces into place. I needed Chris to help me formulate a plan to get close, and he was the easiest for Minami to wrap around his finger. He was my friend, and he wanted the best for me, after all. Phichit was harder, but he was bitter too, deep down. He’d made friends up there, but he still felt abandoned and betrayed by you, and he missed his family. His feelings only grew when I said that you’d hurt me.”

Yuuri winces. He had been so weak and tired and sad back when Phichit and Minami left—he hadn’t even said goodbye, not really. Not like he should have. But they hadn’t known what Yuuri had just gone through, they didn’t know that there was no way for Yuuri to fight for them and have them stay. Though maybe he should have _tried_. Maybe he really did screw up that badly. He needs to apologize, to let them know that he’s sorrier than he can describe.

Victor’s frown deepens, the words pouring from his mouth now that he’s started. “So Minami, with my help, twisted everyone and their feelings into such an intricate knot there was nothing he could do to undo it—not even after Minami had figured out my intentions. That was after I’d won the fencing match for your hand, and I was planning on using him to turn one of your gods against you. He was able to break himself free from the feelings… but not us. His rebellion would have foiled the plan, but you offered yourself up to be married instead of some god of yours. So while I moved in closer, I grasped at those feeling and held on as tight as I could. He couldn’t talk about it, not while Phichit was watching his every move.”

“But something changed.” Yuuri takes a shaking breath, trying to calm the sickness growing in his gut. He should have seen through this sooner, he should have _done something_. “You… You haven’t been like when you first came down here.”

Victor gives a cold laugh. “No. I haven’t.” He glances up at the sky, clear and pale blue. “When you saved me this time, I saw a crack in Minami’s hold. A part of me changed with what you did. And with my control over Minami’s powers shifting, it warped everyone’s feelings into something… different. But Minami couldn’t do anything about it—until it was too late.”

“So then…” Yuuri frowns. So then it’s no one’s fault? “It’s both on yours and Minami’s shoulders, but neither of you are to blame.”

“No.” Victor takes a shaking breath. “Those were my emotions and my thoughts that he spun his net out of. It’s my fault. I’m the one who created this, I’m the one who wants…”

Who wants what? Wants Yuuri dead? Probably. He’s been formulating and feeding these thoughts for years—it doesn’t matter if it’s what he really wants or what his emotions have fed him. He’s felt it for so long that it has to be his truth. Yuuri will ask him about it, he has too—but not now. He needs to straighten up this mess, first.

“We’ll need to train Minami,” Yuuri mutters. If he’s been under his own spell for years, he’d probably be farther behind than Yurio with his storms. Maybe he could train them both, if Yurio doesn’t go for Minami’s throat every time he sees him.

“‘We?’” Victor echoes, tilting his head to look up with his eyebrow quirked, even though there’s no humor in his eyes.

“No.” Yuuri’s quick to correct, ignoring the wince fromVictor. “Minami is my god, I’ll be responsible for him. This will _not_ happen again.” He narrows his eyes at Victor.

“I didn’t mean to imply it would.” Victor turns away, toward the hedge and away from Yuuri. “I… I know what I’ve done, and I accept the consequences. Besides, Minami’s power is truly frightening. I wouldn’t trust him with anyone else.”

Yuuri snorts, brushing aside the flattery and whatever Victor is trying to do with it. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m sure Yakov or most other gods could do a better job than me. But Otabek will be subduing him until we can trust he has himself under control.”

“Yakov? A good teacher?” Victor turns back toward Yuuri. “No, I trust Minami more with you.” He stands up, and Yuuri’s thrown off—sometimes he can forget Victor’s just a bit taller than him, but not now. “Still, it’s good Otabek can stay for a while.”

“Of course he can, there’s no war.” Yuuri crosses his arms. “Despite your attempts to start a new one.”

Victor flinches, large and visible and making him seem so much weaker than the man who cut off Yuuri’s pinky not too long ago. “I… I hadn’t thought that far. I was angry. I won’t do anything to start another war so long as I’m thinking for myself. What I saw was…” He swallows. “Never again.”

Yuuri takes a step back, a cold sweat forming on his skin. “Are you saying you won’t try and kill me again?”

“I… I can’t.” Victor’s eyes move away, refusing to meet Yuuri’s.

Yuuri’s heart drops. He was right. Victor might be sane, he might not want a war, but he still wants Yuuri dead. Whether that’s how he earnestly feels or not is another question, but in the long run it doesn’t matter. Victor can seem as nice as he wants, they can be forced to live in the same vicinity as “husbands” for as long as it takes to heal the wound between the Underworld and Overworld… But he will never again be the soft god that smiled with Yuuri as they brought in the spring. It was a dead dream before, and it’s still dead now.

Some things can never be revived, no matter how hard Yuuri may try.

Yuuri takes a deep breath. “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t believe that you won’t, after everything.”

Victor nods, as if unfazed. “Of course. I’ll accept whatever punishment you deem worthy.”

 _Punishment_? He can’t. He won’t, not when it’s all messed up like this. But he can’t seem weak, not now that there’s finally some sanity and control in his domain. “I’ll consider it.”

Victor just nods, not even batting an eye. “For now, I think Phichit and Chris might need someone with them right now, it’s… it’s very jarring.” He trails off, like he doesn’t want to admit that it’s the same for him, too.

But all Yuuri can hear right now is an excuse to leave, so he nods. “You check on Chris, I’ll go to Minami and Phichit.”

“All right.” Victor stands, moving toward the exit of the little room, but hesitates, looking back. “Is that all?”

Yuuri blinks. “For now.”

“Ah.” Brow furrowed, he turns back around. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Only taking a second to try and figure out what _that_ was, Yuuri starts to walk, robes flaring lightly behind him.

There’s a lot to process, a lot to try and figure out. He has no idea where he and Victor even stand anymore, with their foundation ripped out from beneath them. It’s such a vast change, and yet maybe nothing’s different. The potential makes the world feel tilted, dream-like.

But before he can get lost in his own thoughts, he has more important things to attend to.

Minami and Phichit are waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to that one time I said in a reply, “If I did something crazy, like mind control, I’d foreshadow it.” I mean, I did foreshadow it, and it isn’t really mind control? But pls forgive me. 
> 
> Also, sorry if this chapter’s a bit off! It has been a Rough Week; I had a terrible migraine while editing, my dog got super sick Sunday evening, my life got shaken up a lot the past few days, and my anxiety and depression's super ridiculous atm—not to mention I've been worried about this chapter accidentally being an anticlimax for a long time, so I'm sorry if it is!!! I did try my best, but my brain is super dumb. ):
> 
> Now, two things!  
> 1\. LOOK!!!!!!! ART OF [YUURI AND CERBERUS MAKKA](http://kazul9.tumblr.com/post/182588464523/betterthan2nothing-a-happy-yuuri-with-a-big) BY [BETTERTHAN2NOTHING](https://betterthan2nothing.tumblr.com/post/182587962659/a-happy-yuuri-with-a-big-makka-lord-knows-we)!!!!! _AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!_ (And it's on [Twitter, too!](https://twitter.com/Betterthannoth3/status/1093235807685693442))  
>  2\. Results are in, and I now have [a Discord server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp)!!! Pls feel free to come scream at/with me. (Or just lurk.) After the initial peeps join, I imagine it’ll be a chill server, so check it out! 
> 
> Okay, okay, I’ll stop rambling. Thank you so, so, SO much to [AceMoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet) for helping me make this chapter readable! And thank you guys for continuing to read this fic and support my writing!!! <3
> 
> [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	22. XXII

Any excuse to escape Victor had seemed like a good one at the time, but now as he stands outside of the room that holds both Minami and Phichit, Yuuri considers that maybe he’s made a mistake.

There’s a figure down the hall, leaning against the wall between the door Victor disappeared into and the one Yuuri stands in front of, watching him as he hesitates. Yuuri _knows_ better, but part of him wonders if Otabek’s laughing at this change of fate, of all of Yuuri’s suspicions being confirmed and yet every plan foiled. How easy would it have been to figure out exactly how _Victor_ was manipulating everyone, who else _Victor_ was using, and to be able to hold him guilty of that? Phichit and Minami would have been free and would be his friends again, Chris would be, well, at least sane again, and Victor would be taken care of with absolutely no issue.

But the truth is far trickier, and now Yuuri’s not sure if either of the gods in this room even want to see him.

He doesn’t have a choice, however. He’s Death, this is his domain, and he’s unleashed this madness here. He’s the one who has to clean it up, even if he desperately needs some time to clean _himself_ up. How he wishes he could just take a quick detour and talk with Minako…

There’s no time for that, now.

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri gently taps on the door and turns the handle.

The room itself is unexceptional, almost the exact same as what’s in Victor’s quarters, save for the gods in it.

Minami’s huddled in the middle of the large bed, knees pulled up and hiding half his face, while the mess of his hair does a good job at hiding the other half. Yuuri can still make out his eyes, though, shadowed and hollow as they stare across the room and focus on the other god.

Phichit slumps on the floor, glaring at the carpet as if it’s the cause of all of his woes—don’t they all wish. It would be easier to deal with a sentient, monstrous carpet than this clusterfuck. He’s the first to look when Yuuri gently shuts the door behind him, eyes puffy as his glare transfers over to its next victim. “What the hell do you want?”

They both flinch. Maybe… maybe nothing’s changed, after all. Phichit has reasons to hate Yuuri, of course. They might have just exchanged one mess for another.

“Sorry, I…” Phichit leans back, head thumping gently against the wall as he closes his eyes.

“It’s all right,” Yuuri lies, shifting on his feet. “Today’s been… pretty emotional.”

Phichit snorts. “That’s an understatement.”

Yuuri silently agrees, turning his attention to the young god on the bed. His eyes are on Yuuri now, just as empty and emotionless as before. It’s surreal on Minami’s face. Even before he’d come back down to the Underworld, before he’d started smiling again, he didn’t look this terrible.

Yuuri takes a few steps closer to him. “Minami, are…” How can Yuuri ask him if he’s okay when he’s obviously not? Gods, Yuuri should be this powerful, all-knowing being considering he manages the other half of life and everything it entails, but he’s _not_. He’s just awkward and pathetic Yuuri, trying to handle a situation that’s spun wildly out of his control.

Tears begin to stream out of Minami’s eyes, the stillness of him shattering as a sob tears free. He buries his face in his arms, curling into a fetal position. “I-I’m so sorry, Yuuri. I’m s-s- _sorry_.”

Yuuri’s moving before he can think about it, half on the bed and pulling Minami to his chest, no care to the tears and snot he’s getting all over his clothes. “Oh, Minami, it’s all right, we’ll—”

“It’s _not_ all right!” Minami pushes Yuuri back a little, not exactly shoving him off but making space between them. “I-I screwed everything up. _Everything_. And I couldn’t even stop it. I-I tried, I tried so hard and I just… it always just… fell apart.”

Every word tears little fractures in Yuuri’s chest, his heart aching for Minami. Gods, he knows that feeling. He knows it too well. “Nothing was permanently broken, he didn’t…” Yuuri swallows. “It’s not all your fault.”

“But it _is_.” Minami collapses into Yuuri’s chest, clutching handfuls of his robes. “I-I knew what Victor meant to you. You tried to keep it from everyone, but… we all knew.”

“Yuuri was never exactly subtle, was he?” Phichit almost looks like he’s smiling slightly, on his opposite side of the room. “Didn’t even take a god like me to figure it out.”

Yuuri flushes, even as he aches. That admiration, that _want_ isn’t his to feel anymore. It was too painful and too complex an emotion in the first place. He doesn’t want to remember it anymore. He can’t have his old dreams in any way shape or form.

“And I _knew_ it.” Minami chokes on his words. “I knew it, and when I found Victor and saw that he hated you, I… I…”

“It was like we were part of some weird Overworld club, right?” Phichit murmurs, eyes looking anywhere but at Yuuri. “The betrayed by Death club. It was like… we were justified.”

Yuuri winces, scrambling for anything to say—but there’s nothing. There wouldn’t be anything to say to that. They’re right, of course. He left them to fend for themselves while he licked his own wounds.

“But I didn’t _know_.” Minami clutches at Yuuri tighter, almost yanking him down. “I didn’t know what you did, what you _gave up_ , for the peace treaty, and for us, and, and, _and…_ ” He whines slightly, fighting back a sob.

Slowly enough that Minami could easily pull away, Yuuri reaches out and begins to rub small, slow circles against Minami’s back. Instead, the young god nearly falls onto him as if in relief. Yuuri gives a small smile that weighs heavy on his face. “You didn’t know because I didn’t _tell_ you, Minami. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not your fault either.” Phichit narrows his eyes as Yuuri opens his mouth to protest. “I know you, don’t forget that. Or… knew you. Hell, I’m sure Minami of all people can back me up. If my idol and crush decided that he hated my guts after I tried to save him at a huge sacrifice to myself, and not to mention I was in excruciating pain, I don’t think I’d be up for talking about it either.”

“That’s not…” Yuuri’s mouth snaps shut. What part about it isn’t true? It nearly tore out Yuuri’s heart to meet with Victor again and have him so very, very angry at him. He would have settled for anything, whatever scraps he could get, but instead he got slapped in the face. Everything hurt, his emotions screamed and his body was agony. “It doesn’t matter. It was selfish. I was selfish.”

“No, _I_ was selfish!” Minami looks up at Yuuri, eyes wide and red and weeping. “What you did was… it wasn’t bad. But when you didn’t even come to say goodbye… I was just so sad, and so angry that they were making me go away for someone I cared about but who never cared for me.”

Emotion rises, choking Yuuri. He’s _always_ cared for Minami, even when he was younger and found the hero worship embarrassing—Yuuri’s nothing, after all. Minami would surely realize this someday and regret his embarrassing past. But that’s not why he didn’t show up when Minami and Phichit and the others left. He could barely move from his bed, it had been a horrible day amidst a sea of bad weeks. And… he was ashamed. He was broken in so many ways, and it was all his fault and he couldn’t bear anyone seeing that on his face. “Minami, I never—”

“I _know_!” Minami clutches Yuuri’s robes so tight, he’s surprised he doesn’t rip through it. “And I knew it back then, too! The Yuuri that I knew would never do something like that to hurt me, but it felt like betrayal, and then when Victor, your _idol_ said you betrayed him too? It felt… right. Even though I _knew_ it was wrong. And I believed it was right to be angry at you, and so _he_ believed it too, even though he wasn’t really angry.”

But hadn’t he betrayed Minami, even if not on purpose? Except… wait. “Victor wasn’t angry?”

Minami shakes his head, looking away again. “He felt sad, and… I don’t know. Dark? Empty? Like he was looking for something to hold onto, so I gave it to him.”

Holy shit. Minami doesn’t just manipulate emotions, he feels them. He could play an entire room with the right god guiding him. If he was trained correctly, he could give Otabek a run for his money—why block someone’s power when you don’t feel like you need to, after all? No wonder he has so much potential dancing with the dead. Whereas Yurio lacks an affinity for the emotional side of things, having a natural talent for working the water and the souls in it, Minami’s the opposite, coaxing the spirits themselves onwards and upwards. He could work the pools as easily as he might work a room. And it’s a productive use of his powers too, if Yuuri can find an effective way to train him…

Yuuri shakes the thought off. This is not the time for that. He reaches down to Minami’s hands, slowly uncurling his fingers from the fabric so that he can hold them. “And, from what Victor told me, you gave it to yourself, wrapped yourself in your power so you couldn’t see straight.”

“But I could, at first. And I… I _liked_ it, it made me feel…” Minami takes a shaky breath. “I screwed up, and it’s too late. Everything is broken and busted and it’s because of me.”

“Well…” Yuuri stares at Minami’s mop of blonde hair for a moment, gathering his thoughts together. “Luckily, what’s broken can be fixed. The cracks might be visible, but we’ll make it work.”

Minami just shakes his head, no more arguments pouring from his mouth. Whether or not it’s because Yuuri’s broken through or because he’s giving up, he can’t tell. “I… I’m sorry. I’ll never use my powers ever again. No matter what. Otabek can keep me locked up and then everyone will be safe and happy and—” A sob chokes out of him, knocking the words from his lips.

Yuuri stiffens. “No, Minami, I won’t allow that.”

“But I hurt so many people, I—”

“You _messed up_. Someone should have been monitoring you and helping you with your powers when they emerged, someone who wasn’t affected by them.” Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “When I screwed up, I ended a war. When you screwed up, you let gods go back home—including yourself and Phichit. We’re going to train you to master your power, and I will be in charge of watching you and making sure you don’t abuse it. Do you trust me?”

It’s a cruel question, Yuuri knows it is, but he has to play that card.

Minami bites his lip, and nods.

“Then I’ll help you control this.” Yuuri nods at him, hoping that Minami can’t sense the uncertainty that always lives in him to some degree. “I’ll teach you everything I possibly can. You screwed up, yes, but you don’t ever have to let it get this bad ever again. And even with it this bad, it isn’t like anyone got hurt.”

“ _You_ got hurt.” Phichit’s on his feet, walking across the room to stand next to them. “Hell, _I_ got hurt. We’ll fix this, but it is messed up, Yuuri. It’s not that simple.”

Yuuri tries very, very hard not to latch onto that “we.”

“I-I’m so sorry Phichit, I didn’t mean…” Minami sniffs, tripping over the words he says over and over again.

“And I’m sorry too, Phichit.” Yuuri looks up at him, meeting his eye. “I won’t let it happen again.”

“You _say_ that, but his power, it’s…” Phichit’s voice breaks.

It’s horrifying, it’s terrifying, it’s something that’s not fair. Yuuri’s _well_ aware. “I know. But he’s in my hands now, and I’ll keep him from doing anything else. I swear.”

Phichit’s eyes flash. “And how do I know I can trust you?”

His tone is all too familiar to Yuuri from these past few months, a shiver dripping down his spine as Minami whimpers next to him. But of all people, doesn’t Phichit have the right to be the angriest? Minami controlled them all, Victor fed the hate, and Chris had nearly no personal stake in the matter so far as Yuuri knows. But Phichit was torn from his home and then had his feelings coaxed into a whirlwind of anger regarding someone who used to be his best friend, a friend who _also_ betrayed him.

“I… I’m sorry, ignore me.” Phichit reaches up, rubbing at his forehead. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just… hard.”

“No, you have every good reason to mistrust me, I don’t blame you.” Yuuri sits up straighter. “Regardless of anything else going on, you are—you… _were_ my friends and I should have fought harder to keep you home. I might not have been able to keep you here, but I should have tried.”

“But you were hurt!” Minami shouts.

“In more ways than one,” Phichit adds on, but he looks away.

What a group they are. They’ve all screwed up, but not in ways they’re ready to blame each other on. Even Phichit may be afraid of Minami, but he’s not suggesting that it’s his fault and he should be punished. Then again, Phichit may be closer friends with Minami than he ever was with Yuuri—they were the closest of the Underworld gods that went up to the Overworld and obviously spent enough time together for Victor—or Minami, rather—to recruit Phichit to their cause. Gods, this is all screwed up.

“Well then, I messed up, too.” Phichit lowers his gaze. “I… I think I could’ve fought it, when Minami got me to start hating you with Victor’s plan. It was before it escalated to anyone dying, or at least before Victor told us that’s what he wanted, but… You didn’t even _call._ I texted you, and I should’ve known better because you never look at your phone, assuming you even still have it, but… It hurt. And Victor was nice, kinder than most people were to us after the war. You could tell he hated the fighting, too. And it just got so twisted and big and…”

That seems to be the one consistent thing between everyone’s story, including Yuuri’s. It was all fine until it wasn’t, and then it was too late to fix things so now they’re all left holding shards of something that once was. Maybe Yuuri’s wrong, maybe everything is busted beyond repair. Forgiveness might be out of the question for some, there isn’t any starting fresh after everything that’s happened. But that doesn’t mean it has to get as bad as it was.

“I-I-I’m so sorry.” Minami blubbers, falling onto Yuuri again.

Yuuri can’t help but smile, a small, tentative thing that creeps across his face as he hugs Minami back. “It’s okay, Minami. We’ll make this better, I can help.”

“ _We’ll_ help you.” Another set of arms wraps around Yuuri and Minami, Phichit kneeling on the bed next to Yuuri. “If you’ll let us.”

Minami begins to shake in Yuuri’s arms, and tears burn at Yuuri’s eyes. They all have so far to go.

But he’ll get there.

They’ll get there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat positive emotions?! In Resplendent?!?! It’s more likely than you think. Look at these bois, actually talking about their feelings. A trend that I absolutely intend to continue. ;)
> 
> No betaing for this chapter, so I’m sorry if the typos are nuts! They probably are, knowing me. Thank you all so, _so_ much for your support!!! I honestly made myself a little ill over last chapter, and it was so great to hear that you guys didn’t hate it—tbh I’d grovel at all of your guys’ feet if I could. But for now, all I have to offer is this chapter full of ~emotions~
> 
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	23. XXIII

“Well…” Yurio trails off, looking into the distance as one sunset begins beyond the wisps of vapor rising from the pools of the dead. “You know, I expected all fire and brimstone when I first came down here as a kid. It’s the _Underworld_ , you know? But it’s… pretty. So soft. Like a dream, you know? Much more gentle than life in the Overworld ever was.”

Yuuri sighs, bringing a hand up to rub his forehead. “Minami, I said to use it just on _me_ , not on Yurio, too.”

“R-right.” Minami waves his arms vaguely around, probably trying to delicately unweave his power from around them, but instead shatters it.

Yurio blinks, face instantly going bright red. “What the _fuck_. I wouldn’t. I _never_ —he needs to stop screwing with my thoughts!”

Yuuri bites his lip on a laugh; he’s too tired to hold it back properly anymore. Minami can’t alter thought—at least, not so far as Yuuri’s been able to discern from the heap of untrained potential in the young god—but builds upon feelings that already exist in the person or god that he’s trying to manipulate.

Victor must have been telling the truth when he said he’d allowed and helped Minami’s power have influence and keep hold of everyone because Yuuri can easily brush off Minami’s tentative brushes and tangles of soft feelings.

“You know he’s still mastering it, Yurio.” Yuuri sighs. Not with much help from himself, either. Yuuri’s powers don’t work anything like this, and honestly neither does anyone’s that he can think of. Perhaps Phichit, but… hell, he can’t ask him to be around Minami’s powers. He’ll have to do more research.

“Fine.” Yurio crosses his arms. “At least it was better this time.”

Minami perks up. “Really?”

“Well, you got me believing it,” Yurio grumbles, looking away from them both. “And we all know the Underworld’s been a shit hole since the bastard came down here.”

Yuuri just blinks at him. Somehow, impossibly, Yurio seems to be tolerating Minami… well? Maybe it had something to do with their dancing together while Yuuri was sick, and how they still cover for him on his particularly bad days. Still, sometimes it’s almost like Yurio tolerates Minami better than Yuuri even, though not quite as much as the cats he dotes on. Though, now that he’s thinking about it, Minami _is_ a bit like an overeager kitten…

“Thank you!” Minami squeaks, almost leaping out and hugging Yurio, but catching himself at the sight of the latter’s scowl.

“Whatever. It doesn’t mean you’re _good_ yet, you know.”

Yuuri scowls. Guess this isn’t one of those days that he’s tolerating anything for long. “That’s enough, Yurio. You’ve been slacking off on your own training while you’ve been down here, too.”

Yurio bares his teeth. “Because _you_ didn’t train me!”

“Because I’m not in charge of you.” Yuuri could go into how the peace treaty regulated this sort of thing, but he knows rules and Yurio don’t always mix. “But now, well…”

“Now you’re _still_ not, but you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and training me even though I’m _fine_.” Yurio balls his fists, the wind picking up.

Yuuri just raises an eyebrow. If he was fine, Yurio’s powers wouldn’t unravel and affect the wind and the clouds every time he got a little upset. The two young gods are so alike yet so different, almost in the same way they dance to the dead; Yurio’s power is very forceful, yet he has little control; Minami’s power is subtle and honed, yet he has no idea how to actively use it himself. And, honestly, Yuuri’s never taught nor been taught in any other subject than the work he does as Death. He has no idea what he’s doing. But he’s trying at least.

Yurio sighs, and the wind calms down.

A smile twitches at Yuuri’s lips. “If you’d rather have someone from the Overworld, I’m sure Victor—”

“Don’t you _dare_.” There’s a gust of wind before Yurio caps his power, but his eyes still burn with the fire underneath.

It was probably a low blow for Yuuri to have said that, but it really _is_ their only other option. Not that Yuuri exactly trusts Victor in general, or trusts Yurio not to try and strangle Victor. He’s been quiet in the days since everything’s come to light, but then again, so has Phichit and Chris. It seems they all need time to recover, save Minami who hadn’t wanted to sit still and rest.

Yuuri’s still not sure what he should do. About Minami, about _anything_.

“I won’t do anything we don’t all agree on.” Yuuri meets Yurio’s eyes, then Minami’s. “You’re both getting yourselves under control before anything unfortunate like this happens again. And Yakov knows everything, so don’t think you’ll be escaping this by going home, Yurio.” In fact, Yakov nearly imploded when Yuuri told him the news, at how wildly everything swung out of control under Life’s own watchful eye. It’s probably a good thing Victor’s crew is down here, receiving whatever punishment Yuuri deems fit, because Yakov honestly might not have let the lot of them live.

“Yes, sir.” Minami stands up straighter.

“Fine. Whatever.” Yurio waves his hand. “Can I go now? Mila was going to try and show me some elemental bullshit to help with my stuff, and then Otabek and I are going to hang.”

Yuuri’s still not sure what to think about Yurio and Otabek, they seem almost glued to the hip as they lurk around the mansion doing who knows what. Yuuko assures him that she keeps an eye out and only sees them chatting and hanging out, but Yuuri’s been burned a few too many times to truly trust anything. “Yes, you’re free to go. Remember that next lesson we’re going to focus on your power, and to practice while—”

“Yeah, I know, we’ll be screwing with the weather and that’s a big deal and all.” Yurio waves his hand in dramatic movements. “I _am_ the God of Storms, you know.”

“The God of Storms who doesn’t know anything about how storms work.” Yuuri shakes his head, and turns his attention to Minami. “You should rest. I know this drains you more than you let on.”

Minami’s eyes flick to Yurio, and then back to Yuuri. “But it’s important.”

“It _is_ , and you’re doing your best. Otabek will make sure you don’t do anything accidentally while you sleep.” There’s a minimal chance he’d be able to do something while unconscious, not to mention that the more experienced gods like Yuuri would be roused right away by having their feelings twisted from their control. But he gets that havingOtabek keeping Minami is a comfort to the young god.

“Are you sure he can?” Minami messes with the hem of his shirt. “Watch me while we’re both asleep, I mean.”

“It’s simpler when he understands how you work.” Yuuri reaches out and places a hand on Minami’s shoulder, steering them back toward the mansion. Yurio takes that as his cue to take off from the boring conversation, and beelines it away from them toward wherever Mila is, hopefully. “It’s a switch that can be turned on and off for Otabek. At least, that’s how he described it.”

Minami hesitates a bit as they walk in the door, but nods. “O-okay. If you trust him, then…”

Yuuri nods, trying to stay strong enough for both of them. “I do. And you need to rest so I can help Yurio with his next lesson.”

Again, Minami hesitates on his feet, but eventually nods. “I will. I promise. Thank you for, you know. Everything.”

He could say it would have been his job all along if it weren’t for the damned peace treaty. He could say he has no choice, if he ever wants to feel secure in his own home again. But instead, Yuuri says, “Of course Minami. I know you’ll make it worth both of our time.” And Yuuri clings to those words, hoping for truth to be shining in them.

Minami smiles as if Yuuri’s just promised him the world. “I will! I swear I will.” And with that, he nearly skips down the hall, hopefully heading off to sleep. Even if he doesn’t show it in the way he talks, Yuuri’s seen how jerky his movements have been, how heavy his limbs have seemed.

Yuuri’s felt the same way himself, lately. Though at this point, constant exhaustion and stress is a way of life, feeding the flames of his anxiety.

Well, no rest for the wicked. He’s already leafed through the library in the mansion looking for anything to help him with Minami and Yurio with minimal results. He could try and go barter for something new; if he’s remembering right there’s some sort of God of Information living in the general area. Though he hasn’t checked his personal collection in his rooms. In fact, doesn’t he have a big tome on the kinds and variations of gods? He thought it was boring as all hell when he was younger. In fact, didn’t he used to press flowers in there? Or… no, that was a different one. This one—

Oh. This one holds the flower that Victor gave Yuuri.

At this point, it might have as well been from a different person. But Yuuri remembers that long hair and those blue eyes far too well for something that happened ages ago. He hasn’t really even thought of the dried thing as something that still existed, just a part of some long-dead story of long-dead people. His fingers twitch at his sides as he wonders if the silky petals are still there and intact, or if they’ve crumbled to dust years ago.

He shouldn’t indulge this. There’s far too much on his plate without bringing the past into this—they’ve finally _moved forward_ , and if Victor and Minami’s story tells them all anything, it’s a warning not to focus on the past. So he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

But… he wants….

“Ah, there you are.”

Yuuri spins around, then freezes.

It’s Victor. He walks toward Yuuri slowly, almost a cautious pace. It sets Yuuri on edge more than his usual strut ever did, mind racing to figure out what he’s up to, if somehow Victor could figure out what Yuuri was thinking and shame him for it.

Now _that_ is ridiculous.

Yuuri lets out a shaky breath. “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering… a few things.” Victor glances away, a motion that might have been casual, if not for the way his fingers tapped against his thigh. “How’s Minami?”

Yuuri narrows his eyes. “You haven’t talked to him yourself?”

“I… no.” Victor takes a breath. “No. I thought it would be best if I didn’t.”

Does that mean that he’s avoiding Chris and Phichit, too? Yuuri scowls. “So long as you aren’t conspiring to use him against me again, you shouldn’t just ignore him. Not after everything.”

Victor snorts softly. “You think he’d want to see me again?”

“I think that he has tried to tell me, multiple times, that you’re not that bad of a person. Whether or not he’s right about that, he respects and admires you.” Yuuri lifts up his chin, looking down at Victor. “Give him a reason to do so.”

Victor blinks at him, and for a moment Yuuri wonders if he’s gone too far. It isn’t his place to push Victor, not when they’re on whatever delicate tightrope that exists between them. But Yuuri’s traitorous brain wanders back to the conversation that he had with Minami after everything came to light, that Victor wasn’t angry with him back when this whole thing first started. And if Yuuri was going to betray himself even more, he’d say that Victor seems like he isn’t angry right now. Then again, it could all be a front, but…

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Victor ducks his head a bit. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“I… I can understand that.” Hadn’t he distanced himself from Phichit and Minami after everything? And look how that backfired. How differently things would have gone if he’d just kept in touch. Even if they hadn’t known everything, he could have _tried_.

There’s too many damn “what if”s lately. “Just, well. Consider it, for his sake, at least. They stood by you this long.” Yuuri glances around, half-wishing he had his cane to fiddle with. “Now, you said you were here for a few things?”

“Ah, yes.” Victor shifts on his feet, almost nervous. It’s such a strange thing to see that it’s nearly making Yuuri nervous, too—or, well, more nervous than usual lately. “Well, it’s been a few days, and…”

“And?” Can’t he just spit it out already? He has to go and deal with past-Victor so he can have his damn book to help Yurio and Minami with their powers, and it’s not like he _wants_ to deal with present-Victor. Though they are technically husbands, by some twisted cosmic joke. He’ll have to deal with the god somehow.

Victor catches his gaze and holds it. “And I was wondering if you were up to fencing again.”

Yuuri sucks in a breath, his blood running cold. He hasn’t even _thought_. Gods, Victor could have done whatever he wanted too during this break.

But he didn’t.

And yet he wants to start it up again. It was hard not to think… not to _hope_ … Dammit all, he knows better than this. He’s had to live through having any and all of his dreams crushed over the past few months, might as well have Victor trying to murder him again.

He scrambles after his runaway thoughts, yanking them in order before he has a panic attack right here in front of Victor. He’ll think about this later. Much, much later. “I see. I… had assumed things had changed, I’m sorry for dropping it for so long.”

But he’s _not_ sorry. He doesn’t want to see what today’s murder attempt will be. He could actually die, and he doesn’t want to, he _can’t_ while he has so much to get done. Well… maybe he doesn’t _have_ to. If Victor’s lacking the support of his cohorts, he could say no to the fencing and try and deal with Victor one on one. Is this a risk worth taking though? Reasonably, he can deal with some pain, he’s done it before. But he doesn’t _want_ to.

“Ah, no.” Victor raises a hand, waving it. “Things have certainly changed. I’m not sure what, exactly, but a lot’s changed. No one’s sneaking around, and I won’t… I’m not…” He glances around, as if his next words are fluttering out of reach and he needs to catch them.

He won’t… try to murder Yuuri? He wants to suggest it, wants to put those words in his mouth, but he wouldn’t trust them if he heard them. “So you don’t… require the matches to stay in line. Is that what you’re saying?”

Victor lets out a breath. “Yes, exactly. I just, well. There’s something I’d like to fight for today.”

Yuuri grimaces, but nods. He doesn’t need Victor resorting to other methods to get what he wants. He’s tired from teaching Minami and Yurio, and barely having recovered from everything before that, _and_ still trying to process everything, but there isn’t saying no, not right now. “All right. Lead the way.”

It’s almost eerie how well Victor knows his way through Yuuri’s house. He’s been living here long enough, yes, but it’s jarring to see him so at ease in Yuuri’s territory. He doesn’t even glance back to make sure he’s coming, or that Yuuri’s not up to anything—though if anyone is up to something, it’s usually Victor. Hell, what does he even _want_?

He doesn’t have as long as he’d like before they’re headed outside again, the cold nipping at Yuuri’s ears and his nose. At this rate he’s going to need to start wearing a hat, especially with what he’s planning with Yurio.

Victor wastes no time in approaching and opening the rack where they store the swords, hardly searching at all before he’s tossing one at Yuuri.

The katana. Yuuri wrinkles his nose at it, not really in the mood for losing his pinky _again_ , but it could be worse, he supposes.

“Are you all right?” Victor hesitates across the courtyard from Yuuri, sword half drawn.

Yuuri sighs, taking the sheath off of his blade and tossing it aside. Ironic that he, of all people, should ask Yuuri that. Yuuri hasn’t been all right in a long time, if ever. But that’s not what Victor wants to hear. “I’m ready.”

Victor scowls, but doesn’t press. “Sure. En garde.” He raises his sword, and Yuuri echoes his movement.

“Fight.” Yuuri’s voice manages to be crisp, despite the way that his heart bangs loudly in his chest, ringing in his ears. He has to win, he can’t deal with whatever bullshit that Victor’s got up his sleeve today. But _can_ he win?

Victor darts forward, swift and controlled. Yuuri jumps back, raising his blade just in time to knock Victor’s away, trying for a counterattack that Victor instantly catches.

Holy hell, maybe Yuuri doesn’t even stand a chance.

“I see you’re feeling better,” Yuuri snaps, backing away and circling.

Victor follows, a small smirk on his face. “And you’re tired.”

Yuuri scoffs, even as heat burns beneath his cheeks. “How would you—?”

Victor leaps forward, moving so fast he’s practically a blur that Yuuri’s mind can barely keep up with, much less his blade. He swings as fast as he can, his whole body ringing with the clashing of the katana, but he can’t get in any moves of his own. Something warm and vile seeps into Yuuri’s limbs. Victor’s right and Yuuri _hates it._

Yuuri ducks away, sudden enough that Victor’s eyes widen just a tad. He takes the surprise for the opening that it is, swinging wildly at Victor’s side—

There’s a flash of metal and Yuuri’s katana is yanked from his hand, thrown across the courtyard with a clatter.

“That’s how I know.” Victor’s breathing heavy, but still manages to smile at Yuuri. “We’ve fenced enough, I think I should be able to tell.”

Yuuri eyes him, but doesn’t move. To be honest, he would have never thought Victor paid any attention to anything but himself, but he doesn’t have the mind to say as much. All he can focus on is the blade in Victor’s hand, and how it glints in the evening sun.

Why did Victor want to fence, and why right now? Had he somehow finally figured out Yuuri’s weakness? Was this his end?

Victor moves, jerking Yuuri’s focus from the blade. He turns away, back toward the rack of swords and… puts his sheath back on his katana.

Yuuri scowls. Well, unless he’s using an unnecessarily complicated method, he isn’t killing Yuuri this evening. But then what does he want?

Again, Victor moves across the courtyard, picking up Yuuri’s sheath and… handing it over? Gods, he’s up to something, and Yuuri doesn’t want to know what.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t exactly have a choice in the matter.

“Fine.” Yuuri pants, yanking the sheath from Victor’s grip with trembling fingers. “You’ve won. Now, what do you want?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahaha… haha…. So, uh. You guys, like cliffhangers, right?
> 
> On an ABSOLUTELY UNRELATED NOTE, just a heads up that after next chapter I’m taking a three-week break to post my fluff bang fic! (Here are the previews on [Tumblr](http://kazul9.tumblr.com/post/182914085363/kazul9-were-allowed-to-post-previews-for-our) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9/status/1095847181993562113), so subscribe to my [profile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazul9/) if you want to be updated when that goes live! I’ll start posting on the 7th, and it’ll be 11 chapters long, updated every other day. :D) I won’t leave you on another cliffhanger though, I SWEAR! PINKY PROMISE!!! Resplendent’s completely written (if unpolished) and I fully plan on posting it all—I just can’t juggle two large fics at the same time.
> 
> Also! Actually-unrelated: Check out this hella-gorgeous Resplendent-inspired Yuuri on [Tumblr](http://kazul9.tumblr.com/post/182990259448/betterthan2nothing-i-forgot-my-touch-pen-at) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Betterthannoth3/status/1098985051033878528)!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Thank you so, so much to [AceMoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet) for pointing out all my nonsensical wording! And thank YOU dear readers for putting up with my love of emotional angst and cliffhangers and this weird fic in general! I'm feeling hella bad about my writing and, well, everything atm, so I might take a minute to respond to comments—but they always make my day so much brighter, so thank you to those who leave them. <3
> 
> [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	24. XXIV

Victor’s quiet for a long moment, as if he didn’t already know exactly what he wanted from Yuuri with this win. Gods, he can’t just win a match without torturing Yuuri in some way, can he? Yuuri grits his teeth and resists asking what he wants again—he needs to stay as much on Victor’s good side as possible, after all. If that means driving Yuuri mad with waiting, well.

Finally, Victor draws in a deep breath. “You said before that if I won, you’d explain why you saved me, both times. I know the first one was for peace, and I can understand—”

“That wasn’t why I saved you the first time.” Yuuri blurts, and the little white flower in his room flashes through his mind. “Or the second time, really. It never even occurred to me.”

Victor stares for a moment, mouth gaping. “You… what?”

Yuuri glances away, glowering at the grass. “If I’d known it would result in peace, I might’ve done it anyway, but I didn’t know then. I was only up there to reap a soul—Makka’s—but…” Victor knows that part of the story, probably better than even Yuuri does. “I saved you because of the first time we met, and that wasn’t the same day. On our… _wedding_ day, I mentioned that when I saved you wasn’t the first time we met.” Yuuri chances a glance at Victor. “You don’t remember at all though, do you?”

Victor’s brow furrows, his eyes flickering around. “I… what? No, I don’t remember you. And I would have remembered you. Or, I think I would have?” He runs a hand through his hair, leaving a mess in its wake. “My memory is… not very good, but I think I’d remember meeting Death’s child.”

“Well, you didn’t You _don’t_.” Victor never will and it stings, eats away at what’s left in Yuuri’s chest. It’s not like he’d even give a damn if he _did_ remember. The most meaningful experience of Yuuri’s life was just another spring for Victor. Yuuri was just a dumb kid that got swept away in something he could never have, and Victor indulged him. After all, what’re a few moments in a god’s life?

But it was everything to a younger, more innocent Yuuri. He’s as weak as a mortal, emotionally. His heart’s as fragile in every single way, and dammit, he can’t _deal_ with this.

“It’s not like it matters,” Yuuri snaps, fighting back the tears building in his eyes. What is he, a child? “It’s in the past, and has no meaning anymore.”

Victor eyes him. Not a glare, but a look that clearly sees through Yuuri’s lies even as Yuuri himself tries to believe them. Words have power, but not enough to make the false a reality.

“Maybe it’s not important anymore,” Victor speaks slowly, carefully, as if walking on glass. “But it mattered enough for you to sacrifice a part of yourself then, and another part now. I’d like to know. But…” He swallows. “But if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

Now it’s Yuuri’s turn to eye Victor, the storm inside of him settling just enough for him to turn over Victor’s words again and again. It isn’t like Yuuri wasn’t just considering what to do with the flower, whether or not it was worth it to even open the book. This should be an answer of some sort, it feels like it should be obvious, but…

He shouldn’t hope. He shouldn’t look back into the past. He had just come to that conclusion as Victor found him; nothing from back then will change what’s happening now. If he’s being wholly honest, the past has already lead him to make terrible decisions. He wouldn’t take it all of them back, but he wishes that he wanted to. He wishes he was stronger.

But because he’s weak, he can’t help but wonder what this might change. Knowing Victor, he’s just handing the man another weapon to use against him, but…

“Fine.” Yuuri’s voice cracks on the word, his shoulders slumping. “Fine. I’ll… tell you.”

Victor opens his mouth, but hesitates on whatever he wanted to say, and nods. “Thank you.”

Yuuri laughs, harsh and without humor. “Don’t go thanking me just yet. It’s…” Ridiculous. Stupid. Everything that he cared about for a long time.

He grits his teeth and walks over to the rack of swords, putting his back. “Come on. I have something to show you.” He hesitates, looking back for a second. “Evidence, if you will.”

Then he turns and walks into the house, ears straining to catch the footsteps behind him. Maybe Victor will lose interest and wander off. Gods, why does he even _care_? He should just go into a random room and tell Victor what happened, he doesn’t need to see it, really. The remnants of their power in that flower has to be so faint at this point, he might not even find it if he doesn’t truly search for it.

And dammit all, it’s in his _bedroom_. He’s bringing Victor into his safe space and… and…

Fuck. Why does he always make the worst decisions? Maybe he just needs to have Minako at his side every single hour of every single day. Or even Yurio; he may be as angry as a hormonal teenager, but sometimes he’s the only voice of reason in this place.

Well, it’s too late now. They turn down the hall of Yuuri’s room, and his hand hesitates on the door handle. He has to invite Victor in, or else the house won’t let him enter, but damn he doesn’t want to.

“You can come in, but only this one time.” He doesn’t turn back to look at Victor as he opens the door and walks in.

Makkachin instantly barks and lopes across the room, nearly tackling Yuuri before she notices Victor, and then turns her attention to jumping up on him. Bringing her when he trains the young gods probably wouldn’t be the best idea when they have such fragile control of themselves, but the past couple hours have felt a little empty without her. A smile flits across his lips before he continues farther into his rooms, into his bedroom and the bookshelves there.

He turns around, finding Victor following slowly behind, looking around everywhere as if he’s in some museum.

“My weakness isn’t in here, either.” Yuuri lifts his shoulders up, tries to act like Death. “It’s not that easy.”

“Oh.” Victor’s eyes snap to Yuuri’s. “I wasn’t… these are your rooms?”

“Yes.” Unfortunately. He should’ve burned this damn flower ages ago. “I told you, I had evidence in case you don’t believe me.”

Victor’s eyes furrow, but Yuuri doesn’t wait for a response before reaching out and pulling the ancient book from the shelf. It’s a familiar weight, a motion that’s so natural it’s almost instinctive, and it pierces right through Yuuri in a sharp pain. He hates this, he hates this, he _hates it_.

He puts the tome on a table next to the shelves, and reaches out with shaking fingers to flip it open. A sob nearly rips through him. It’s here. It’s still here. This cursed flower that wrecked his entire life. Who gives a damn about the purpose and inspiration that their chance meeting gave Yuuri; he almost wishes that one of Yakov’s lackeys was who found him that spring, that he was used as leverage for the Overworld to win and they found a twisted peace that way. This cost him so much. Too much.

He doesn’t even dare to try and touch it, to reach out and find his and Victor’s energies twined together. Instead, he steps aside and gestures for Victor to come closer.

“You gave that to me. You put that in my hair when we were younger.” Yuuri crosses his arms to hide his trembling.

Victor moves closer in careful steps, and reaches up for the flower with gentle hands. Yuuri’s mind dredges up a bright smile on Victor’s face, long hair glimmering behind him as the warmth of a fresh spring washes them and Victor places that fresh bloom of life behind his ear. A promise of a future together escaped his lips then; how foolish of Yuuri to assume that the future was anything other than a nightmare.

As his fingers touch the petals, his eyes widen. Yuuri resists the urge to pull it from his grasp and grind it to dust beneath his heel.

“How… This is you. And me. We… made this?” Now Victor’s hands are shaking as he lifts up the flower. “I don’t remember. Why can’t I remember?”

Because he’s evil incarnate and doesn’t _deserve_ it. Yuuri takes a deep breath. “It was so many years ago—long before the treaty and our second meeting. I hated being groomed for Death, I always had, so I ran away from home. I thought I’d made it to the mortal world, but…” But he screwed everything up constantly, even back then. “I ended up in the Overworld. It was almost spring, but not yet. And then, well, it was.”

He watches Victor for a moment, absolutely frozen as he listens to Yuuri speak. He can’t tell if it’s recognition or shock or indifference on Victor’s face, but he’s probably better off not knowing.

“You found me, we danced, and you put _that_ into my hair. You said…” So, so much. So many kind words and promises that Yuuri can’t help but wonder if it was, in fact, another person. Maybe Victor has a twin or something. “Well, you said some things, and then you sent me home.”

“What did I say?” Victor’s voice is hoarse, hollow. “What… what made you save me?”

Yuuri shrugs. “You said you wished the war wasn’t going on, so we could meet again. I promised to end the war, so I… well, you’ve seen the garden. If you even want to call it that anymore.” Yuuri laughs, a harsh noise. “Well, I ended the war, I just didn’t mean to. So, you’re welcome.”

It’s silent for a long moment, other than a small whine from Makka as she sits at Victor’s feet. He doesn’t move though. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t blink, and Yuuri almost has to wonder if he’s even breathing.

“I…” A tear slides down Victor’s cheek. “I remember. It’s not a lot, flashes of color and conversation. I remember your promise. Not your face, or your name, but… I was just…” He takes a shuddering breath. “I was so sick and tired and exhausted from the fighting and the demands, I could barely remember most days, but I remember that. I never told a soul, but it…”

Yuuri takes a step back, staring at the tears rolling down Victor’s face. What… what the hell is going on?

“ _Dammit_.” Victor wipes viciously at his tears.“No, I don’t deserve to be the one crying when I’ve been trying to kill you! When I… I still want…”

Yuuri swallows, his throat dry. “You still want me dead?”

Victor looks down at the flower, his whole body trembling. “I don’t… it’s not… It’s complicated.”

“This whole fucking mess is complicated,” Yuuri mutters, but the vehemence seeps from his voice as his shoulders slump. He doesn’t know what to do. How do you deal with your mortal enemy sobbing in your bedroom while holding an ancient flower that holds too many memories? It sounds like a joke, and he has no idea what the punchline is.

Victor gives a watery laugh. “Complicated is an understatement, isn’t it?” He gently sets the flower down back into the pages of the book, stroking it one last time before turning to Yuuri. “So… in order to save me and Makka, you sacrificed a part of yourself into us, and then…Why did you save me a second time?”

“I just…” Gods, what _had_ he been thinking? “You were going to disappear and leave disaster in your wake without so much as an apology. And I… well, I wanted an apology. After all, you’ve tried to murder me. Repeatedly.” Yuuri shifts on his feet, trying to see where Victor’s taking this. “Anyway, knowing any of this wouldn’t have stopped you. We both know that.”

“I… You’re right. It wouldn’t have.” He wipes at his eyes one last time. “And I… Well.” He’s quiet for a long moment and Yuuri wonders— _hopes_ —that this is over and Victor will just leave.

Unfortunately, he’s not that lucky.

“Do you know how I got Makkachin?”

Yuuri blinks. “ _What_?” How did he get from murdering to Makkachin?

“It was shortly after, well… our actual first meeting. As I said, I was exhausted, I collapsed after I sent you back. Yakov let me rest for a while afterward, but I was restless. For the first time in my life, I’d had fun doing what I was supposed to be doing, and I couldn’t stand the thought of going back to it alone. It inspired me to start and sneak off to the mortal realm. For years I would go down, and I would read their books and watch their movies and be a part of something that has absolutely nothing to do with the gods and their nonsense. I’d half-hoped I’d find you again, run away from home, and we could…” He takes a shaky breath. “It doesn’t matter. But that’s when I found Makka.”

Her tail begins to wag as she hears her name again, nudging at Victor’s fingers until he complies and begins to scratch her ears. “It was cold, so freezing I nearly thought that I might turn to ice. It was a large city, bustling and busy, so I escaped into an alley. That’s where Makka was.” A smile flickers across his lips. “She was so _small_. Malnourished, skin and bones, and one of her legs wasn’t moving, but she was so sweet, even then. I instantly took her home and got her healed up and she was… she’s my best friend.” He kneels down, ruffling the curls around her head. “Predictably, Yakov hated her. He said that she was trash, and would die near instantly and be forgotten in the eons my life would stretch, but I couldn’t just…”

He takes a shaking breath. “It doesn’t matter. She did pass away, all that I had was gone. My friends, if you even want to call them that, only stayed around me because I was powerful and had influence. The boy I could barely remember had never come back to dance in spring again with me—of course he couldn’t while the war was going on. It was nice to believe in him and his promise, but I didn’t even know who he _was_ , and reality had not been kind to me. I would go back to fighting immediately with no time to mourn, waste all the days of my life on a pointless conflict that would kill more mortals and their precious ones, and I couldn’t… there was _nothing_ left.”

It makes sense, of course it does. If Yuuri didn’t have the support of his family while he trained for a purpose that he absolutely loathed, he doesn’t know what he would have done. But… “You know this doesn’t excuse everything, _everything_ that you’ve done to me?”

“No, of course not.” He stands up, even as Makka whines for more. “There isn’t anything I can do to take this back or make it right, I know that.”

Victor doesn’t even know if he still wants to kill Yuuri, he said it himself multiple times, of course he can’t _take it back_. Pain seeps bitter into his thoughts, and Yuuri snags onto it before sympathy threatens to wash it away. “Then why are you telling me this? Do you want compassion? Because we passed that a long time ago.” Though not as long as Yuuri’d like, nor would he admit.

“I… I know that,” He repeats, looking down at Makka. “You told me something that is—was, at least—important to you. It isn’t fair after all I’ve done that you had to tell me that, I can see that now. So, well. I’ve never told anyone how I found Makka or what she’s meant to me. People have assumed a lot of things, but after she…” He swallows. “I couldn’t bear even thinking about it. But after what you’ve done for her, I thought you might want to know.”

Yuuri can’t say he’s wondered how Victor got Makka in the first place, but it’s not like there were many people to ask. He narrows his eyes. “Why Makkachin?”

“What?”

“Her name.” Yuuri sighs. “Why did you choose that name for her?”

“Oh!” He smiles, just a bit. “It… it just sounded cute, and she liked it. I spent a week trying names with her, and of course she liked some gibberish. Not that I didn’t like it too.” He looks down at the furry, scaly dog. “It suits you, doesn’t it Makkachin? Doesn’t it?”

She gives a soft boof, shifting on her feet as her tongue lolls out of her mouth.

“I… see.” But Yuuri really doesn’t. Maybe he could see that first incarnation of Victor that he met doing something silly and ridiculous, but he can’t imagine the Victor he knows now doing it. There’s a violent disconnect between the two that makes his head spin.

Victor looks up at Yuuri, a crease in his brow. “Thank you. For telling me.”

Yuuri shrugs. “You won it. Those were the rules we agreed on.”

“But you could have said no.” Victor meets his gaze. “I wouldn’t have made you.”

That’s what he _says_ , but what does he actually mean? What would he have done if Yuuri said no? Try to kill him? Gods, what is this man _up_ to? “What are you going to do, now that you know? Why did you need this information?”

“I didn’t need it.” Victor shakes his head. “Or… I did. But not for anything. I won’t use it.”

Yuuri snorts. “Sure. Of course you won’t.”

“I won’t.” Victor stands his ground. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Well, you…” He hasn’t, has he? But what does that matter, really? He’s had some respect in the past, but now everything’s different. “Fine. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Victor bows his head, just slightly. “Then I’ll do my best to show it to you.”

Yuuri scowls. “Sure. Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to get to.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll just…” Victor glances down at the flower.

Yuuri follows his gaze to the white petals, yellowed slightly with age. He has no idea how it survived his years of touching and holding, probably something to do with the fact that a god’s power is imbued in it. Two gods, in fact. Yuuri’s stared at it and ached for a future that doesn’t exist long enough. “Take it.”

“What?” Victor’s eyes flick back to Yuuri. “Are you sure?”

Yuuri nods. “I’ve clung to it long enough. If you have some want for it, then you should have it. I’m done with it.”

Victor winces, but reaches out and lifts the flower from where it rests. “Thank you.”

“It’s meaningless, but you’re welcome. Now…” Yuuri gestures toward the door.

Victor follows the motion, keeping his gaze locked forward instead of wandering around like before. The door swings open, and Makka follows him out.

Victor hesitates outside the door. “Do you want her, or…?”

“It’s fine, she can do what she wants,” Yuuri snaps. “Goodbye.”

And he shuts the door.

He stays there, ears straining as he listens for footsteps, and they eventually, thankfully, fade from his hearing.

With a shaky exhale, he slides down the door, curling up on the floor as tears sting at his eyes. It was a bad idea, he shouldn’t have done that, he shouldn’t trust Victor with _anything_. He shouldn’t have let him know that they’ve had this connection for years, he shouldn’t have saved him, he shouldn’t have ever run away from home all those years ago.

But why can’t he regret it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Reminder that I start posting my fluff bang fic this Thursday, and because of that, Resplendent won’t be posted for the next three weeks!** Hopefully Held Captive will be worth the break? :’D You can subscribe to my [profile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazul9/) to be updated when it goes live to fill the Resplendent void!
> 
> See! I said I wouldn’t leave you on a cliffhanger!!! Also, for once I didn’t do the exact opposite of what you guys predicted, eyyyyy. It’s past time they had this convo—though I don’t think any of us can blame Yuuri for not wanting to share something so precious to him with a homicidal Victor. I’m cruel, but not that cruel. ~~Maybe. Possibly. Kinda?~~
> 
> Thank you to [AceMoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet) and Blue for betaing my mess! And thank YOU, dear readers, for reading and kudoing and commenting. <3 Honestly, you’re guys’ comments got me through this past week! <3 <3 <3
> 
> [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	25. XXV

“So,” Yuuri tries. “How’ve you been?”

Phichit raises an eyebrow.

Yuuri deflates. He thought a conversation starter might’ve been better than their awkward silence, but apparently Yuuri was wrong.

It seemed like a good idea that, if Victor wasn’t hanging out with his old buddies—Yuuri’s even _older_ buddies—that maybe Yuuri should hang out with them. He justified this his reasoning with Minako as turning the tides, maybe bringing everyone onto his side of the battle so he can win the war, but they both know better. Having breakfast with his old friend isn’t an alliance. It’s an olive branch. And if Yuuri’s bad at anything, it’s handing those damn things over.

“About as well as someone can be after living in a tornado of anger toward their best friend for a good while.” Phichit grabs a cup, sipping his tea and eyeing Yuuri over the rim.

“B-best friend?” Yuuri bites his lip after the words tumble out. What a dumb thing to latch onto. He should be trying to comfort Phichit, or ask if he needs anything, instead he’s acting like a child.

Phichit snorts. “Yeah, of course. Who else did I hang out with literally all the time when we were growing up?”

“I mean… Well.” Yuuri grasps at straws, trying to not sounds like an idiot and failing spectacularly. “I just thought that, you know, after…”

Phichit sighs, and sets his cup down. “Yuuri, I get it, okay? You weren’t trying to _murder_ me like Victor was trying to do to you—which is still fucked up, and _I_ fucked up too, but we’ll get back to that later. You were hurt. You couldn’t have done shit even if you weren’t hurt and could run around. Could you have picked up your cell phone, or tried to say goodbye? Yeah, that would have been cool. But like I said, I sorta had a hand in your attempted murder? Maybe attempted murders? I think I win in the who’s-guiltier game.”

“But…” Yuuri bites his lip.

“Okay.” Phichit sighs, eye twitching as he probably resists the urge to roll it. “What if we call it even? Would that make you feel better?” Phichit holds out his hand across the table, raising an eyebrow.

Yuuri hesitates for a moment before smiling a bit and taking the offered hand. “It would. Thank you.”

Phichit rolls his eyes as he pulls away. “Only _you_ would think it’s even remotely fair to trade murder attempts for being injured and emotionally crushed and having an actually good excuse. Oh, don’t look at me like that, I know you. I won’t keep pushing it. But as long as you don’t let Victor get away with murder—literally or figuratively—and as long as this makes you happy, I won’t fight you.” He tilts his head slightly, just like Victor does sometimes. “Well, I won’t fight you too much.”

Yuuri smiles, finally bringing his own cup to his lips. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” But as he thinks more on Phichit’s words, his smile falters. “What do you mean about Victor, though? Do you not want me to forgive him, or… is he still plotting my murder?”

Phichit shakes his head. “So far as I know, Victor isn’t up to anything. He doesn’t leave his rooms much, but when he does he just gets a book from the library, or eats, or comes to fence with you. Chris talks to him, but it doesn’t seem like they’re plotting.”

Yuuri leans back in his chair, unable to help but notice that Phichit didn’t answer the other part of the question. “That’s… a lot of information. Are you still, um, hanging out with him?”

Phichit shoots Yuuri a look. “No. I…” He looks away. “I enjoyed the time I spent with him, so long as you weren’t around or brought up, but right now… It’s too much to be around him. I don’t want it.”

Yuuri nods. He gets that. Hell, he might even understand that feeling more than Phichit in some ways, but he’s not the one who lost some of his free will for who knows how long. “Then that’s really impressive. Is someone helping you with intel, then?”

A small smile flits across Phichit’s face. “Kinda? It’s, um… can you keep a secret?”

Yuuri arches an eyebrow. “Yeah, of course.”

“Well.” A true smile spreads across his face. “You know I’m a God of Gossip, right? But unfortunately I can’t mind read and drag the information out of people—that’d be kinda scary. So I figured out that I can get others to be my eyes and ears for me. Like…” He reaches into his shirt and pulls out… a small bundle of brown fur?

Oh. Oh no. “Is that a _rodent_?”

“It’s a hamster, you heathen!” Phichit clutches the beady-eyed thing to his chest.

Yuuri wrinkles his nose. “A _what_?”

“Do you ever leave the Underworld, what the hell? Oh, wait, I didn’t mean to bring up…” Phichit bites his lip and releases the poor creature a bit, letting it crawl around his hands as he holds it out—close enough for Yuuri to look, but not for him to touch. “They’re a popular pet in the mortal realm and, well… I’ve made some adjustments.”

Yuuri glances up at Phichit. “Adjustments?”

“I’ve kinda sorta made them my messengers. So that they can do my work for me. They’re a part of me, but not me. Pretty cool, right?”

Yuuri shakes his head, smiling. “I forgot you were good with animals.”

“Well, it _has_ been a while.” Phichit shrugs, but he’s smiling again. “But if you hurt them, I hurt _you_.”

Yuuri raises his hands, laughing. “I won’t. I swear on Makkachin, even. So, is this how you guys always knew what was going on with Minami?”

Phichit’s smile freezes on his face, his whole body going tense. “I… I’m…”

Yuuri cringes. “Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It doesn’t matter right now, anyway.”

“No.” Phichit droops. “It _does_ matter, I just… I’m really sorry Yuuri. Yeah, that’s how I kept an eye on things. It was messed up.”

“I thought we just moved past this.” Yuuri offers a small smile. “Besides, you aren’t doing it anymore, right?”

Phichit nods. “Right. Just, you know. Keeping an eye on… things. Do you want…? I could… um, keep you informed on what’s going on with Victor. If you wanted.”

“No.” Yuuri shakes his head. “No, that isn’t what I want. If he’s doing anything suspicious and you happen to notice, I would like to know, but I’m not using you against him. I’m not…”

“You’re not as bad as him?” Phichit suggests softly.

Yuuri winces. “I… I don’t know. But I won’t do that. I didn’t do it with Minami, and I won’t do it with you.”

Phichit nods, opens his mouth, and then shuts it again. “I’m…”

“No more apologies about this, remember?” Yuuri lets out a breath, leaning forward. “Besides, you haven’t let me pet your… thing.”

“It’s a _hamster_ , and its name is _Arthur_.” Phichit looks down his nose at Yuuri.

Yuuri laughs. “Okay, okay. Can I pet him?”

Phichit narrows his eyes at Yuuri, but eventually sighs. “Sure, come on over.”

Yuuri smiles, standing up and walking to the other side of the table. He slowly reaches out a hand, letting the little thing reach out and examine his finger.

Phichit snorts. “It isn’t going to bite you, c’mon.”

With a breath, Yuuri runs a finger down its back. It’s… soft. And so small and fragile beneath that puffy coat. He presses a little firmer with more fingers the second time, and it almost seems to like it? Yuuri’s never even considered a pet outside of Makka before, but he thinks he can see the appeal here. They suit Phichit, somehow.

“How many do you have?” Yuuri keeps petting the little creature, trying to imagine how to keep track of them.

“Only three for now.” Phichit shrugs. “It’s hard to find ones that are, uh, compatible I guess?”

“Yeah, I get that. Makka was… tough, and it’s not the same, but—”

Upon hearing her name, Makka shoves her head up from underneath the table, eager to pet Arthur with Yuuri—or taste the rodent, either or.

“Hey!” Phichit jolts out of his chair, holding Arthur out of reach. “Paws off!”

“Aw, Makka just wants to say hello!” Yuuri reaches down and scratches Makka behind the ears.

“Of course you’d defend that beast.” Phichit grumbles.

“And you’re such a good beast, aren’t you Makka?” Yuuri kneels, letting her press her face into his. “Aren’t you?”

She barks, and Phichit scowls.

“Fine, fine.” Yuuri gets back to his feet. “We should probably head off, anyway.”

The amusement drains from Phichit’s face. “Fencing?”

“Yeah.”

“You know… Without Minami and me—and probably Chris, you don’t have to…”

“I know. But last time, he…” Yuuri frowns. “I think he’s up to something. And I’m not sure if it’s good or bad, but it’s something I want to keep an eye on.”

“So, what? If nothing’s changed somehow, and he still wants to keep trying to kill you, you’ll let him?” Phichit tucks the hamster somewhere back into his shirt, turning his focus fully to Yuuri.

“I…” Yuuri frowns. “There’s something I want from this match. I’ll play it by ear from here on out, okay?”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Phichit grumbles. “But fine. Victor, he’s… I hope he’s back to himself, after this whole Minami business.”

They all seem to somehow genuinely enjoy Victor on some level, despite what they’ve all gone through for his revenge. Not that Phichit seems to completely forgive him, nor _should_ he. But… Yuuri can’t help the stirrings of curiosity in him. Victor isn’t the free and perfect god that he first met, nor is he the homicidal, rage-fueled creature that Yuuri’s come to know. Reasonably he understands that just because he’s toned down his anger doesn’t mean that Victor isn’t still vindictive—in fact, taking away the all-consuming rage might help him on that front more than harm him. Either way, Yuuri intends to find out. He _needs_ to find out. He doesn’t hope for a happy, healthy relationship with Victor, but they are married. There isn’t any escaping.

“I hope…” Yuuri sighs. “I don’t know what I hope. But I really do have to head off.”

“Good luck, then.” Phichit attempts a smile. “Go kick his ass, and I’ll see you later?”

Yuuri laughs, turning and walking toward the door. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

The halls are quiet, but there’s a slight buzz beneath Yuuri’s skin. He can’t read the fates, it’s a nearly impossible art that the gods talented in it train hundreds of thousands of years to mater, but it’s almost like there’s change in the air. Or, well, maybe it’s just what he has planned with Yurio later.

He shakes off the thought, pushing open the doors to the courtyard, the chill air biting through his clothes and into his skin.

“You came.”

Yuuri turns to find Victor leaning up against the wall of the mansion, looking at Yuuri with a blank expression. He almost said the words as if they were a question, but not quite enough to make it one.

So Yuuri shrugs. “Well, you tracked me down last time. Seemed like less of a waste of both of our time, this way.”

“I wouldn’t have tracked you down if you didn’t want to do this.” Victor pushes off of the wall, standing up straight.

Yuuri shrugs again. It’s not like it really mattered either way, not when Yuuri couldn’t trust anything that Victor said. Better to keep him occupied, either way. “Did you want to fence then, or not?”

“Sure, yes, of course.” Victor moves, picking out blades and handing one off to Yuuri. Their fingers brush in the exchange, and Yuuri can’t help but notice the way Victor’s fingers jolt away when they do.

Interesting.

They take their stances, no more chatting, and the match begins.

They circle one another, Victor still keeping his distance. That’s fine. This isn’t like the last time. Victor was right, Yuuri hadn’t been well rested. This round is different.

Yuuri makes the first move, stepping out and attacking in a flash of metal and whisper of wind.

Victor’s eyes widen just a fraction before parrying. He opens his mouth to say something, but Yuuri moves again, their blades screeching together as Victor barely deflects the hit.

He doesn’t try to talk after that.

Yuuri keeps up the attack, pushing Victor around the courtyard without any damn _opening_. He knew it was a lot to hope that he could beat Victor while he’s not literally having the life sucked out of him and isn’t consumed by emotion, but he has to _try_.

Victor tries to get in an attack or two, but Yuuri turns it against him, arm moving so fast he barely even thinks before he _does_. Sweat beads on Victor’s brow, their breaths clouding the air, the only noises being their shuffling steps, rustling fabric, and the metal of the swords amidst the deathly cold and quiet of winter. His moves are getting sloppier as the seconds tick by, Yuuri clinging to his _need_ to win, letting it sear underneath his skin.

Victor parries and lunges forward, aiming for Yuuri’s gut. Yuuri smacks his blade away, sliding the edge of his own sword underneath Victor’s chin.

“Looks like I win,” Yuuri pants.

Victor just nods, huffing out a large breath as he raises his arms. So out of breath he can’t even talk? Yuuri eyes him a moment, then lowers his blade.

“I imagine you want something this time?” Victor finally manages to get out, bending over with his hands on his knees.

“Well…” Yuuri glances away from Victor. “Yes. But in the same vein as your last request, you _can_ say no.”

Victor arches an eyebrow. “Well, now you have me curious.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, but hesitates. There are a lot of things he regrets in his life, so many things that he would take back if he could, but this… This is a new one. Yuuri doesn’t regret saving Victor all those years ago and he never will—despite maybe the fact that he should. But he could have done better, after everything. Maybe it was Victor’s story was his to tell, but how could anyone have helped him if they didn’t _know_?

Yuuri takes a deep breath. “I… would like to offer for you to talk to Minako.” He swallows. “I’d encourage it, actually.”

Victor scoffs. “Why, so she can dig at me for more information? Make sure I’m not a threat?”

“No.” Though he can’t guarantee that Minako _won’t_ keep that in mind. “I… Well, I and a lot of the other gods down here talk to Minako when we’re going through… things. She has a talent for making you feel, well, better. Not perfect, but better. And she has tonics that help to manage the symptoms.”

Victor stands up straight, glowering down at Yuuri. “You cannot _fix_ me.”

Yuuri’s lip twitches down. “I don’t want to fix you.”

“Then what the hell do you want?” Victor’s tone is biting, his voice echoing in the emptiness of winter.

“I want you…” Yuuri wants him to be happy with himself—to be _okay_ with himself so he doesn’t reach out and drag everyone down with him again. But that would be hypocritical of Yuuri to say, wouldn’t it? “You should never have to face something like Makka passing alone again, especially if…”

Victor’s anger falters, his face falling just slightly. “You can’t _want_ to help me. I’ve been trying to kill you for months.”

Yuuri takes a breath. “We all do extreme things when we’re ill. It doesn’t excuse it, it doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get better.”

“I’m not _ill_ , I’m—”

“You think your actions mean you’re healthy?” Yuuri takes a half step forward, making Victor meet his eyes. “I know what it’s like, you know. I’m ill, too.”

Victor blinks, eyes narrowing. “Oh really?”

“Yeah.” Yuuri can’t keep it up, looking away. Yuuri knows so much more about Victor than he ever would have willingly told anyone, probably. He might as well tell Victor his own secrets—assuming it isn’t already glaringly obvious. “I worry a lot, and I have issues with confidence. It doesn’t sound too terrible, but sometimes it’s beyond what I control. When we were younger, Mari was once trying to comfort and assure me that I was going to be a great God of Death, and I, um. I may have lost control of my power and… Well, she almost died.” He had also been grieving the loss of his ability to create life at the time, but that probably wouldn’t help bring Victor over to his side.

Victor takes a trembling breath, shaking his head. “Why would you…?”

“That’s the thing. There isn’t a why, not when your brain’s… broken.” Even though they're gods, even though there _should_ be an easy fix. But no. Nothing can ever be that simple.

“I don’t…” Victor trails off, eyes losing focus. “ _Broken_.” There’s something hollow in his voice, empty.

Yuuri’s mind flits back to what Minami said: Victor wasn’t so much angry when he used his power as he was hollow. He still is, apparently. Dammit, Yuuri just wants to push him at Minako and be _done_ with him, but fate doesn’t seem so kind. “But you don’t have to stay that way. And I… well, I can’t fix you. If I could, I would’ve fixed myself. But I can help.”

Victor laughs, and it’s almost as flat as his words. “I don’t… I don’t _deserve_ this.”

Yuuri doesn’t know if he’s talking about the demons crawling around his head, or about the offer that Yuuri’s making him, or about something else entirely, but it doesn’t really matter. “We rarely deserve what we get, good or bad.”

Victor huffs a laugh, holding out a hand to take Yuuri’s sword. “I suppose you’re right. You of all people would know. It isn’t as if I…”

Yuuri shrugs. “You don’t have to decide anything now, just know that the option’s there if you ever want to change. I have to do something with Yurio tonight, but I’ll be here to fence tomorrow.”

Victor’s lips quirk up. “How the hell did you get him to be okay with that nickname?”

Yuuri snorts. “Well, maybe next time you win you can ask for that story.”

“Yeah.” Yuuri barely catches a glimpse of what almost seems to be a smile on Victor’s face as he turns. “Next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should have a more impressive chapter to come back with after that three-week break, but!!! [Held Captive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17776388) is completely up and finished (and, uh, I might’ve written a [ball pit AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18194069) because of my Discord server?), so we’ll be back on the regular schedule, barring any extreme circumstances! :D ~~Also, Yuuri, my boy, I know you're done with Victor but maaaaybe perhaps don't be so blunt?~~
> 
> AND! LOOK AT [THIS FABULOUS FANART OF THE END OF LAST CHAPTER](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts/status/1111658859544961024) BY MANDOLINEARTS THAT WILL MAKE YOU CRY BECAUSE 1. EMOTIONS 2. IT'S TOO PRETTY!!!
> 
> Thank you so, so much for everyone being patient while I threw my fluff bang fic out there! I hope you enjoy where we’ll be going next… ;)
> 
> [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	26. XXVI

“I would like to apologize.”

Both Yuuri and Yurio turn as they make it down the hall and—Yuuri grabs Yurio’s shoulder just in time to keep him from leaping forward. Dammit _all_ why didn’t he tell Yurio to meet him outside?

“Chris.” Yuuri nods his head in greeting, not taking his eyes off the other god.

It’s honestly unsettling to see him without a scowl etched onto his face—it was almost as if the expression was etched onto his face like a carving, or a statue. But now, after Minami’s powers have been broken…

Chris bows his head in respect, and it takes everything in Yuuri not to narrow his eyes.

“You fucker!” Yurio spits. He doesn’t struggle against Yuuri’s grip, but nothing other than a gag would keep him quiet—not after what Chris has done to Mila and Yuuri. “What gives you the right to just waltz right up to us, after all the shit you’ve put everyone through, and say you’re _sorry_? Do you even think that’s enough?”

Chris glances at Yuuri, who just cocks an eyebrow. The young god has a point. “I… well, that was enough of that. But I feel like I owed you something, at least, and I don’t have anything else to offer besides words.”

“You should apologize to _Mila_ , you son of a—”

Yuuri squeezes Yurio’s shoulder. If he keeps going much further, there won’t be any capping his anger. Besides, they’ve been learning about this in their lessons.

“Control,” Yuuri murmurs to Yurio, ignoring the way Yurio nearly hisses. He turns his focus back to Chris, even if his eyes have never left him. “Thank you, but you’ll understand if I don’t trust anything that comes out of your mouth.”

Yuuri catches Yurio stilling out of the corner of his eyes, even as Chris bows his head again.

“Of course, I…” Chris clears his throat. “You’ve never known me before…”

“Before Minami and Victor fucked everyone up,” Yurio supplies helpfully.

Yuuri breathes out a soft sigh. “I understand you’re a different person than what you ended up becoming under the watch of Victor and Minami. I… Well, I saw how it affected you. You were protecting Victor. Or, at least you _thought_ you were.” And really, how can he blame Chris for that, when he too kept making stupider and stupider decisions because of Victor? Maybe he really should send Victor off to live in another part of the Underworld. Though then there would be rumors, and if Yuuri’s done this much to hold up the peace treaty, he can’t risk it. “However, I won’t accept your apology. Not when you’re the only one who hurt someone.”

Chris raises an eyebrow before he controls it and goes back to a neutral expression. “Victor hurt you.”

Yuuri twitches. “First, I haven’t forgiven Victor, either. Second, I allowed him to do that. To stop _you_ from hurting anyone else.”

Chris raises his hands. “I’m sorry again, I hadn’t meant to pry where I shouldn’t have.”

“You better be,” Yurio mutters.

“Is that a threat, little tiger?” Chris’s lip twitches up. “I’m afraid I’m done with all that anger for now, alas. You’ll have to try and pick a fight with someone else.”

“ _You_? You were the most aggressive of the bunch!” Yurio jabs a finger at Chris.

“Ah, but you forget what I’m the god _of_. There’s a lot of passion involved with my specialty, after all.” Chris winks, and Yurio goes bright red. “Anger is a simple word for what I was feeling.”

“Oh?” Yuuri instantly regrets asking—he's never thought about it, but as a God of Fertility, well. He doesn’t know how Victor got to know Chris, or when. He could be something else to Victor, different from a friend. It could have been jealousy driving him, or bitterness over the fact that Victor is Yuuri's husband. How could Yuuri have been so blind? It's not like his and Victor's marriage is one built from love. Even if they were on better terms than, well, murder, Yuuri wouldn't have blamed Victor for having a companion. “I didn't realize you and Victor were…”

Chris's eyebrows shoot up. “We've never been anything other than friends. Though I never expected to catch a whiff of jealousy from _you_ of all people.”

“I'm not jealous,” Yuuri mutters, the heat on his cheeks betraying him. “As I said, I just felt like a fool for not thinking of it earlier.”

“They've been friends since before I was born, they're just _disgusting_. Not anything else.” Yurio bares his teeth, as if agreeing with Chris causes him physical pain.

“Mmhmm,” Chris hums, grinning. “As you can guess, I was angry that someone had hurt my friend. It was misplaced though, I can see that now. _Especially_ now.” His eyes don't waver from Yuuri, brow furrowed.

“It seems that's the common story you all have.” Yuuri focuses all his energy on cooling his cheeks and controlling his body. “And I don't intend to hurt Victor. I never had. And maybe, _maybe_ a long time ago, I may have… admired him. But now is different.”

“Now is certainly different.” Chris nods, finally averting his gaze. “I'm sorry. I know I said it before, but I'll keep saying it until it means something. If you ever need me or my skills for anything, I'm at your disposal.”

“As if we'd ever need a pervert like _you_.” Yurio tugs at Yuuri's grip.

“Oh?” Chris leans in a bit closer, a teasing smile gracing his face. “You might change your mind after you finally hit puberty and find someone special to you, little tiger.”

“I've already gone through puberty, you fu—”

“Enough.” Yuuri rolls his eyes. “If you're acting like this to a little teasing, perhaps you aren't ready for our plans.”

Yurio glares at Yuuri knowing better than to open his mouth. Good. He's improving, if extremely slowly.

“Ah, this stage. Always fun. I'm sorry to interrupt your training, boys. I promise I won't impose again. Unless you want me to, of course.” Chris winks again.

Yuuri sighs, but gives a small smile. This god would have flustered him before all of this, probably, but after everything it's just ridiculous. And if anything, he appreciates something bringing a smile to his face more than ever. “I'll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Chris gives a deeper bow than before almost ruffling Yuuri enough to bring that flush back to his face. “Anything you need, feel free to ask.”

Yuuri gives a nod, and before Yurio decides to get in one last biting remark, he turns them both and steers them outside and into the dark of the full moon.

The cold is a shock after the comfortable warmth of the mansion, and it unsettles Yuuri's thoughts. If he didn't know better—and oh does Yuuri know better—he'd almost say that everything seemed to be getting better, that things were starting to look up. He was talking to Phichit almost like they're friends again, he was training Minami and keeping that precarious power under control, Chris was downright _apologizing_ to him, and Victor, well. Victor isn't actively trying to kill him. In fact, if he was feeling stupid, he might even suggest that Victor was reaching out.

But he knows better. It only takes one shift in the rock bed to start the avalanche, and they haven't even dug themselves out of the last mess yet. If something's changing and going to stay that way, he'll need more evidence than them all acting a little nicer than before.

Because, if he’s being truthful, he's not sure how to handle it if they're actually being honest.

“I want to kill him,” Yurio mutters as they make their way around the mansion. “I'm not _going_ to. You don't have to threaten me to not get this fucking thing over with again. But I want to murder him. Him and Victor.”

“Hmm, I don't believe you really do.” Yuuri smiles a little as they pause in an open field, the grass almost white illuminated by the moonlight and covered in frost. “I remember how you were when I brought Victor to you to help get him to the Overworld so Yakov could save him.”

“And I still regret that.” Yurio kicks at the stiff grass, footfalls crunching the frozen greenery. “It could've fixed fucking everything, but I… Whatever. I would've helped you hide his body, I have no idea what you're talking about.”

For a moment, Yuuri considers letting it drop. But he can't because he really doesn't know how or why Yurio felt the way he did in that moment, not after so many threats against Victor's life. “Then why _did_ you help me? Why were you so upset when I brought his unconscious body to you?”

Yurio huffs a sigh. “I hate you, you know that?” He waits a moment to see if Yuuri indulges his pouting, then continues, “I used to look up to him. I wanted to be like him. All of the other gods oohed and ahhed over the magic tricks he could pull off. People were saying that if the war ever took Yakov, Victor would be the one sitting up there on that dumb throne. But no one actually paid attention to him, you know? It’s so fucking dumb, but I looked up to him like mortals look up to gods, like he was something better than the pile of shit he actually is. I even got him to teach me some dancing, but it was like… I dunno. He never got too close to anyone. He kept forgetting my name and what he taught me and he just was so off. When he thought no one was looking he’d look so _miserable_.” Yurio lets out a breath. “He’s just as fucked up as the rest of us.”

“I used to look up to him too, you know.” Yuuri smiles at Yurio, even as his chest aches. It’s terrible, to have the comfort of someone you held in high regard let you down. He wouldn’t have wished that on Yurio.

“Yeah, Mari told us something like that, after… You know.” Yurio scowls. “You don’t still look up to him?”

Yuuri opens his mouth, but no answer comes to his mind right away. Instead, he glances up at the night sky, the gentle light of the moon washing out the galaxy of stars in the sky. Does he look up to Victor any more? No. Maybe he’s a little jealous—Victor’s able to create life, has taken advantage of that fact for years, while Yuuri struggled to get by without something that was an integral part of himself. But he’d also given Yuuri’s life a purpose when he’d been floundering, given him a direction and a purpose for decades. He’d also hurt Yuuri, he’d forgotten him for just as long. It should be simple. It isn’t. “I don’t look up to him anymore,” Yuuri finally admits, looking back down at Yurio. “Not while we’re still standing on the same ground.”

“What, so you _literally_ looked up to him? When he goes back up to dance in spring, you’ll be looking up at him again?” Yurio scoffs.

Yuuri laughs. “Well, I hate to break this to you Yurio, but I don’t think I’ll be able to _see_ him from here. So no, not literally.”

Yurio blushes, obvious even in how little light they have to see by. “Whatever, You should just have him fucking stay there when he goes, so none of us have to look at him.”

“Well, he is my husband.” Yuuri shrugs. “It would be odd if he stayed in the Overworld.”

Yurio gags. “ _Husband_. Don’t even use that word. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Yuuri shrugs. He can’t exactly argue with Yurio there. Victor may have literally earned Yuuri’s with his fencing, but he’s done very little to make this whole arrangement comfortable for either party involved.

“You could exile him to somewhere else down here then.” Yurio waves a hand toward the trees, to the word that exists far beyond the mountain that the dead travel.

“Unless he wants to go, I shouldn’t make him, Yurio. Everything is so…” Fragile. Already fractured. Whatever’s keeping Victor from killing Yuuri could snap in a second, and Yuuri doesn’t exactly want to provoke that. “If he starts up the murdering thing again, maybe I’ll try it. Since it doesn’t seem like everyone’s after my head anymore…”

“Good.” Yurio crosses his arms. “Speaking of people who aren’t trying to kill you anymore, where’s Minami?”

Yuuri laughs softly. “I thought I mentioned he was taking today to rest. What, you like him that much?”

“No, of _course_ I don’t, he’s annoying as fuck, and he’s shitty at listening to instructions. Don’t be stupid.”

“Oh?” Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “You say that like you’re any better at listening.”

“Ugh, you’re the actual _worst_ , you know that?” Yurio scowls.

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice, yeah. But you know, if I’m that bad, we can always just forget about this whole thing and head back inside. It’ not like we _need_ to make it s—”

“Oh shut up. Victor should get back to murdering you so I don’t have to deal with your… your… _sass_.”

Yuuri bites his lip against a laugh. “My sass? Yurio, you really need to work on your insults.”

Yurio rolls his eyes. “I’m going _easy on you_ , don’t think I’ll show you mercy when you’re no longer teaching me this bullshit.”

Yuuri barely resists the urge to keep prodding him, knowing very well it would only work against what he was hoping to accomplish here—even if it’s ridiculously fun. “I take it you’re ready then?”

“Of course I am, _I’m_ not the one trying to chat about the resident asshole,” Yurio grumbles.

It isn’t as if Yurio couldn’t have shut down the conversation and started this at any point, but Yuuri knows better than to point that out. Instead, he reaches outside of himself with his power. The air around him sings with the light of the moon, which should theoretically make this easier for Yurio to achieve his goal. Yuuri’s ready to catch and redirect any stray energy, even to stop it if need be. And if Yuuri failed, Otabek was standing watch somewhere in the house. Yuuri had him stay inside to observe for two reasons; one, Minami hadn’t had any rest from using his power and lacked the resources to use or lose control of his powers for years, and he needed to be monitored; two, Yurio and him got along well enough he was sure to be a distraction.

Well, if anything good came of this whole ordeal, at least Yurio finally found a couple of friends besides Yuuri and Mila, who were more like an annoying aunt and uncle at this point, anyway.

“All right then. Let’s see if you can handle this.” Yuuri holds out his hands toward Yurio.

“Let’s see if _you_ can handle this.” Yurio smirks as he rests his fingertips against Yuuri’s. His power swirls around Yuuri’s, and with a spark between their powers, they twirl apart.

This dance has less room to be as intimate as Yuuri and Victor’s had been all those years ago, but it suits Yurio just fine. As they stomp and twirl and dance along the field, Yurio’s power stretches out into the sky, shape not unlike a delicate snowflake. It shimmers vaguely in the moonlight, invisible except to those who know how and where to look for it, almost as if the sky itself has been covered in frost. Yuuri traces his power through and around Yurio’s strengthening it and correcting it with his movement. Everything in the universe is connected, every dance leads into another, and though Yuuri may be Death, this storm is familiar to his body and power in a strange sort of way. The book that hid Victor’s flower was worth opening, in the end—it taught Yuuri more than he had hoped to gather from his research. _Almost_ enough to make him feel confident in teaching Yurio about a power so foreign to himself.

And now it’s time to test that.

Yuuri and Yurio move closer together in their movements, synchronized though not touching, and the web above them pulls closer, too. Yurio is a natural master of the wind of storms, able to call them up at a moment’s notice, but this is what he still hasn’t yet grasped. The tugging movements of their dancing lift moisture from the air and into the surrounding clouds, pulling them tighter and closer and heavier until the bright moonlight is blotted out, tucked in to sleep by the heavy clouds that Yurio drew into the sky. Even the dead seem to take notice, their faint whispering ringing in Yuuri’s ears like a melody.

In a sharp movement, Yuuri and Yurio stop dancing as suddenly as they started, a chill sweeping across the grounds that’s infinitely cooler than the temperature that they endured before. Too damn cold. But… maybe that means that it worked?

“What now?” Yurio pants, swaying a little as if he might pass out.

And here Yuuri thought _he_ was going to get wiped out, never having touched the weather before, and with his soul such a jumbled mess. “Now, we go in, we sleep, and we wait.”

“That’s _boring_. Why did I get the most boring power in the world?” Yurio mumbles, not fighting Yuuri as he takes the younger god’s shoulder and starts urging him inside before he passes out and dies in the cold. Or, well, that isn’t how he dies, but his limbs could still freeze which would be very unfortunate.

“It’s not the most boring power out there.” Yuuri rattles around his brain for some sort of comfort. “Isn’t there a God of Knitting, or some other craft like that? At least yours has more uses than that.” Theoretically, at least. Those needles are large and could probably do a lot of damage if welded right.

“Whatever.” He keeps quiet as Yuuri weaves through the inside of the house, gently toppling the kid into his own bed, taking off his shoes and tucking him under the covers.

Yuuri turns to the window then, peeking down into the darkness and straining his eyes for movement he knows won’t be there, not yet. It could take hours or days to settle, but the result is the same no matter how it irritates both him and Yurio: waiting is the only thing to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a calmer chapter, but, well. You know what happens after my calmer chapters. ;)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's still here and reading along!!! <3 <3 <3 I can't believe so many people read this fic, it's just... so Wild to me. :'D I appreciate everyone who leaves kudos so much, and I grovel at the feet of all my commenters, thank you (again)!!! 
> 
> [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	27. XXVII

It's… bright.

Yuuri bolts up in his bed, jostling Makkachin who whines her displeasure.

He hasn't slept past the sunrise for _years_ , his body well timed to get up at the very first rays of the sun so that he can dance the dead along their path. Last night's dance with Yurio was draining, sure, but not draining enough for _this_ …

Yuuri scoots to the edge of his bed—far too large for one, but after Makka once accidentally went three-headed and large while dreaming, well, he'd had to improvise—and shuffles to the windows, spreading the thin drapes.

He sucks in a breath.

It’s completely white outside, so much so that it stings at his eyes, too bright.

_Snow_.

It had worked. Yurio's dance last night was successful—beyond successful. Snow has completely blotted out the withered grass, weighs heavily on the branches of trees in thick clumps, and the window is even frosted at the edges. He places his hand on the glass and it's cold, so much so that it burns. Everything shimmers in the delicate, early morning light.

A shiver runs through Yuuri as he turns around. “Makka, wanna go play in the snow?”

Makka leaps up from where she lounged on the bed, giving a loud _boof_ as she comes over to topple Yuuri.

In reality, he should get his robes on and go dance. But he hasn't taken a day's rest from it since he was well enough to be able to dance again, and the dead will be fine for one morning. He can even make Yurio and Minami do it, if the pools are too restless. Yuuri hasn't seen snow in years, not like this. Not ever, not unless he counts that one time with Victor…

Well, that doesn't matter. He's not here to reap anyone, and Makka's going to love this. The last time there was any sort of snow on the ground, Mari and he threw slushy snowballs at each other. They were wet and icy and Yuuri regretted trying it afterward. But this is nothing like that, and it's great.

Yuuri tears through his clothes, finding he has absolutely nothing to wear in this weather. He throws on layers of clothes, not caring how ridiculous he looks, until he’s sweating. Then he runs out of his room, almost slides down the banister before he catches himself and runs down the stairs instead. He throws open the front door and sucks in a freezing, sharp breath.

It's beautiful. It's white and sparkling and so sharply cold. The lawn around the house has been absolutely untouched. It's quiet, even the dead gone absolutely silent in the hush of the snowfall.

Makka doesn't hesitate, leaping forward and barking as she bounces through the snow, destroying the smooth surface and snapping at the bits that go flying.

“Hey!” Yuuri bolts after Makka and she flees even faster than before. He can't help but laugh as he trudges through the snow, feeling like he's going half speed. It's so light but so heavy at the same time, puffing around him in small clouds before settling down to the ground. They wreck the entirety of the yard in front of the house, eventually weaving near the pools of the dead, and then toward the forest before Yuuri can't catch his breath anymore and he collapses into a pile of snow.

His lungs burn as gasps in breaths. Makka bounces all around him—and onto him a couple of times—and Yuuri huffs out a laugh. It’s like she’s a puppy and he’s a small child. He can’t reasonably justify skipping out on dancing to the dead just to run around in the snow like this, but then again he _is_ Death, isn’t he? There aren’t many people alive that can tell him what he can or can’t do, except for maybe his parents, and it’s not like they’re around. Gods, how long have they even been gone, now? Time seems so inconsequential when your life isn’t a ticking time bomb like a mortal’s, and yet these past few months have felt like years. Really, he deserves this break. He deserves to be able to just exist for a moment without having to be something bigger than what he is.

Even if he’s absolutely going to feel guilty about it later.

Makka pounces on his middle, knocking what little wind he had in him right back out.

“All right, all right,” Yuuri mutters when he can, sitting upright and gathering some snow in his hands.

Makka barks and her tail wags a mile a minute as Yuuri hefts the snowball and launches it as far as he can. She takes off after it, leaping into the air and crunching down on the snow, just in time for Yuuri to throw another one in a different direction. She gets worked up enough that one head sprouts into three, and she grows in size.

“That’s not fair!” Yuuri laughs as Makka hops around, waiting for the next snowball. Shaking his head, Yuuri reaches down and starts packing the snow together.

“Oy, Katsudon!”

Yuuri whips around, Makka bounding past him and toward the voice.

Minami, Otabek and Yurio trudge through the snow toward him; Minami looking around with wonder at all the white, Otabek as stoic as ever, and Yurio scowling ahead. Well, at least until a giant Makka leaps at Yurio, tackling him into the snow as he gives an undignified scream.

Yuuri howls laughing, clutching his stomach as Makka’s heads lick at Yurio and he screams every insult known to gods and men alike.

“Would you get your— _euhg!—_ stupid fucking mutt off of me already!” Yurio screeches while Minami turns red from trying to hold in his laughter.

“Hmm, I dunno!” Yuuri grins. “What the magic word?”

“Oh my _gods_ , what are you, fucking ten years old?”

Yuuri can’t be sure, but he may hear Otabek chuckling.

“Maybe!” Yuuri can’t help but snicker at that, Makka’s tail picking up its pace and Yurio struggles more. Honestly, if he calmed down, so would she. Yuuri might even tell Yurio that if he thought he has a chance of actually being calm.

“Fine! Fuck. _Please._ ”

Yuuri can nearly hear the eye roll. Still, he relents. “Makka, come!”

Makka instantly jumps up, bounding back over to drool on Yuuri.

“Good girl,” Yuuri coos running his fingers gently along scales and patches of fur, some smoke trickling out of her mouths as he tries to calm her down. “What a good girl you are, Makka.”

Slowly but surely she becomes a manageable size, flopping into Yuuri’s lap and panting.

“She is _not_ a good girl, she’s a fucking terrible dog who doesn’t know what personal space is,” Yurio grumbles as he shuffles closer, Minami trailing him and unable to hold back a few giggles. Otabek even has a small smile across his face.

Yuuri gasps and covers Makka’s ears. “Don’t insult her, she’s right here?”

Yurio’s eyebrows furrow. “What the fuck is wrong with _you_? Aren’t you supposed to be dancing to the dead? Not… whatever the hell this is?”

Yuuri’s grin becomes a little strained. Maybe he really shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. There are still serious things to take care of, he can’t be a child. That time is done and passed and wasted…

“Stop being so grumpy just because Makka tackled you.” Minami frowns at Yurio. “Don’t take it out on Yuuri.”

“I was _not_ —”

A ball of white collides with Yurio’s head.

Both Minami and Yurio turn and stare at Yuuri.

He just shrugs and lifts his hands, biting back his grin. “Makka did it.”

_One_ morning of this dumb enjoyment of the snow won’t hurt. He has to believe that.

“Oh, it’s _so_ on.” Yurio kneels down, gathering the snow in his hands as Minami scrambles to make his own. He stands up, aiming straight at Yuuri who blinks innocently up at him and—

He gets smacked in the back of the head with another snowball.

“So this is what all the fuss is about?” Mila grins as she follows the path that Yurio, Otabek, and Minami made, followed by… Phichit?

Not a combination he thought he’d see, but now that he sees it, Yuuri wonders if perhaps he should be afraid of what they could do together as friends.

“We heard Yurio screaming and had to find out what riled the little kitten up.” Phichit smirks.

Yurio might as well steam and melt the snow, his anger palpable in the air. Luckily he has to be exhausted from the dance last night, or else they’d probably all be getting even more snow dumped on their heads. “Oh, all of you are going _down_.”

They all scramble to get ahold of wads of snow, throwing and diving and laughing. But Yuuri can’t find it in him to join in, his legs still aching with a combination of last night’s dance and this morning’s run.

So he leans closer to Makka’s ear and whispers, “Do you want to go for a walk?”

She hops up, whining a bit as her tail shakes so fast it’s a wonder that it doesn’t snap off. While the others are focused on taking each other out—is that _Chris_ ’s head of blonde hair he thinks he sees in the flurry of snowballs?—Yuuri sneaks off and into the woods right behind him.

Makka runs all around, sniffing everything as the shouting and the laughing becomes distant echoes, and then the odd, muffled silence that the snow seems to provide. Snow begins to fall again from thick clouds above, Yuuri not even sure when they moved in to cover the sun. The snowflakes make a soft pitter-patter around them, only interrupted by the crunch of their footsteps in the snow. It reminds him of a different day, many years ago. But this winter is different. There are no souls to chase down here, there’s no one to save. He and Yurio brought on this snowfall, it means something different, now. Even if he ran away from Yurio and the others.

Maybe he should have stayed, should have made sure that nothing escalated too much, but he just… He can’t have fun like that, not when he knows the others will judge. Yurio deserved that snowball on the side of the face, but they can finish that fight on their own.

With a sigh, Yuuri stops in a small clearing, Makka investigating the base of all the trees for the scratched off bark that shows the horned creatures of the forest exist despite the lack of tracks in the sudden snowfall. Well, he can still have fun even by himself, right? He’s never made a snowman before, why not try that?

He makes yet another ball of snow, but this time begins rolling around the clearing. It takes _forever_ , but it gets large enough that it looks like a decent base, hopefully. He frowns at it. It’s pretty lopsided, and there’s patches of dirt and leaves on it, very unlike the snowmen that he’s seen. Maybe he’s doing it wrong?

“Yuuri?”

A jolt runs through Yuuri, so sharp that he nearly falls over, but he manages to turn and straighten his shoulders instead.

Victor.

“What are you doing here?” Yuuri snaps—or, he tries to snap. Instead, he can feel his hands shaking, and his mind races. It _was_ a mistake to let his guard down, to try and enjoy anything while Victor’s here.

But if Victor came here to harm him while he’s isolated, why did he let Yuuri know he was there instead of ambushing him?

“I…” Victor’s eyes wander the clearing, staying on the ridiculous snowman base for a moment before coming back to Yuuri. “You didn’t come to fence this morning. Not that we could—or should— with the snow. It would be dangerous before it and the ice melts, I just…” He reaches up, running a gloved hand through the fringe of his hair. “I wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

Yuuri frowns. “How did you find me, then?” Victor might have been able to follow Makka and his own tracks through the woods, but finding where they went with the mess that the yard was in—not to mention getting around the snowball war—would have been difficult, to say the least.

Victor shifts on his feet, licking away again before clearing his throat. “Between the marriage and the two… well, incidents, we’re rather… connected. Or I’m connected to you, at least. I can tell where you are. And I just wanted to make sure you’re all right, to return that favor.” He raises his hands, breath making small puffs in the air as he speaks. “I wouldn’t use this knowledge otherwise. I swear it—if that counts for anything.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows. Return the favor…? _Oh_. That time that Victor hadn’t come fencing, Phichit had gotten Yuuri to make sure that Victor was all right. Yuuri sighs. “You know I didn’t do that so that you’d return the favor, right?”

“I do.” Victor murmurs. “I do, now.”

Yuuri doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t know what to _think_ after that. This may very well be the first time that Victor hasn’t taken everything Yuuri’s said as a lie, or a twisted motivation to anger or upset Victor. Is _he_ saying it just for a hidden agenda? It doesn’t seem like him, though. Not any side of Victor that Yuuri’s ever known.

Luckily Victor breaks the silence for him. “Still, that doesn’t mean I can’t return the favor.”

“I suppose…” Yuuri shifts on his feet, turning to watch Makka trot around the small clearing. He can’t help but almost wish Victor was being petty and angry instead of whatever this is—at least that would be less awkward.

Victor clears his throat. “Are you making a snowman?”

“I, um.” Yuuri glances at his pathetic lump of snow. “Yes?”

“Here, I’ll help with the middle.” And then… he _does_.

The god that has been antagonizing him and his friends makes a snowball, and begins rolling it in the snow. Yuuri bites his lip on a hysterical laugh as Victor starts to waddle forward with it, instead turning and forming his own snowball to get the head done.

Maybe he should send Victor off. He probably should. Yurio would have already punched Victor in the face, if he were here. But he isn’t here, and Yuuri… Well, he isn’t Yurio. He’s not so much angry as he is wary. And curious.

So with a sigh, he kneels and starts rolling around his own snowball.

“Oh.” Victor comes up on Yuuri’s base, his nose wrinkled when Yuuri turns to glance at him. “That’s quite uneven, isn’t it?”

Yuuri sits up straight, just staring at Victor for a second. Did he just…? Before he can even catch up with his actions, he lifts the half-formed head of the snowman, and chucks it at Victor, hitting him right over the top of his head.

Victor stills.

Yuuri gasps. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—! It was just… I know you didn’t mean anything bad, but, um. I’m sorry?”

Victor just stares at him for a second. Then he reaches down toward the snow at his feet. “I see how it is.”

Yuuri's heart pounds in his chest, his hands trembling as his thoughts race. He screwed up, he screwed up so _much_. Maybe he can make it right, maybe he can—

A snowball hits him square in the chest.

And Victor stands there, grinning. Not that snarky, content smile he has when he wins a fencing match and is about to try and take Yuuri's life, but more like he's trying to hold back a laugh.

What is he gunning for here, what does he want? Though, there's no reason Victor needs to help him with his ridiculous snowman. There's no reason for Victor to not try and kill him here and now, since Yuuri's and alone and far enough that no one could hear them. There's no reason for Victor to come and check on him, not if he doesn't…

Yuuri doesn't trust Victor, he doesn't know if he can. But he may be able to believe that he's not here to hurt Yuuri. Not right now, anyway.

So Yuuri ducks behind his lumpy snowman base, grabs some more snow, and lobs it at Victor's shoulder.

And Victor laughs, it’s a chocked sort of sound, but when Yuuri peeks out to get a look at Victor's face, he only catches a glimpse of him half-behind a tree before he gets a wad of snow in the face. Now _Yuuri_ can't help but laugh as he grabs another snowball, and manages to miss Victor, Makka running after it and bouncing between them, waiting for the next one.

It's strange. It's weird in a way that plucks at the strings connecting Victor and Yuuri, but not in the same sort of wrongness that Yuuri's grown accustomed to. It does feel off, but in an unfamiliar way. A way that makes Yuuri's heart race, but he doesn't know if that's good or bad.

“I surrender! I give up,” Victor pants after Yuuri got him in the face twice in a row, snow, clumped a little in his hair and all over his clothes. He looks ridiculous, and… Yuuri sort of likes it. Victor leans over, bracing his hands on his knees. “I don't know how you're still going.”

“Well,” Yuuri smiles as he leans back in the snow, coming out from his cover, “I'm stubborn, if anything.”

Victor snorts. “Yes, I think I can see that.” He pushes himself upright, and stepping over. He hesitates a moment, before he steps over to Yuuri and holds out a hand in slow movements. “You're shivering, you have to be freezing. Shall we… head inside? Warm up?”

Yuuri can't help but eye the hand held out to him, physically and metaphorically. He wants to believe it's an earnest offer, but he knows better. Or, he _should_ know better. Things have been different since Otabek broke Minami's power over Victor, even if Victor had wanted to be angry. And that's exactly what makes him hesitate—Victor hasn't said he doesn't want Yuuri dead. But he hasn't said he still wants it, either. He hasn't made any attempts lately, he hasn't had his usual snark, he looks at Yuuri with something other than a glare.

So though he knows better, he _knows_ , Yuuri takes Victor’s offered hand, and they walk back toward the mansion together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone makes Frozen references, there’s a high chance that I’ll kill you. Also, this was in my outline for two million years as “The Beauty and the Beast Disney movie chapter.” Thought ya’ll should know.
> 
> And I still hate them for the crocpocalypse, but my Discord server decided that Yuuri needs a vacation, and you can check out one fabulous illustration of said event on [Tumblr](http://kazul9.tumblr.com/post/183992714798/betterthan2nothing-betterthan2nothing) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Betterthannoth3/status/1114570964547854336), and another one over on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts/status/1114518673170022401)! Look at this blessed art of Yuuri getting the rest he deserves. ~~Alsooooo perhaps if you want access to chapters earlier there might be a way in my Twitter bio?And possible access to a kiss alternate ending to the last fencing match after I write it today/tomorrow???~~
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone still reading along!!! <3 Your support absolutely means the world to me. <3 <3 <3 *grovels*
> 
> [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	28. XXVIII

The yard looks like a battlefield, and Yuuri can't help but smile as Makka trots through it, even as his stomach churns. He keeps glancing at Victor from the corner of his eye, barely able to see his face, much less his expression. Now more than ever Yuuri feels the difference in their height; not that Victor is that much taller, but Yuuri seems so small and young and naive next to him. Yuuri barely can grasp why they're walking side by side without Victor throwing insults, or trying to weasel out information from him.

He's felt overwhelmed by Victor's bitterness and anger before, but this… whatever it is, is different. And it's somewhat terrifying, if he's being honest with himself.

They make it inside, the normal quiet of the mansion somehow eerie as Yuuri pauses just inside the door. He should say goodbye to Victor and walk away, go back to planning what to teach Minami and Yurio next, rest and prepare for the evening dance. But he can't seem to find the right words. Or any words, really.

“We should probably get something warm to drink, so that you warm up.” Victor easily plucks the goodbye from Yuuri's lips, even though he himself isn't shivering.

“How are you not freezing?” Yuuri rubs his arms, eyeing Victor. Isn't he supposed to be Spring? He may not know much, but he knows even a little bit of frost is enough to kill the fresh growth that Victor creates.

Victor shrugs. “The winters in the Overworld are harsh, today might as well be a summer's day compared to what Georgi, Winter, will pull off during a period of heartbreak.” Victor freezes then, face still lacking expression, but every muscle of his body stiff. “Though I suppose you would know that.”

Yuuri frowns. He's probably heard Winter’s name in passing, but he would have no way of know that he’s—oh. Oh, Victor isn’t talking about Georgi. He's talking about the fact that Yuuri's experienced an Overworld winter before, once, and only for a few hours. But the burning cold and the bitterness of the air is seared into his memory. He can’t forget.

Victor's right, it's nothing like today's soft layer of snow. Yuuri may be dressed better than that one time, but the cold hadn't seeped into his bones quite as deep as that one day.

Victor clears his throat, shifting on his feet. “So, where are the kitchens? I've never found them.”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow, but starts moving forward, motioning for Makka to follow. He's ready to leave this room and his memories behind. “I highly doubt you don't know every inch of this place, possibly even more than I do. But I can show you.”

Victor gives a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, though it lacks the malice that Yuuri's used to in his expressions. “Thank you.”

Yuuri hesitates a moment, again wondering why the hell he's doing this. Though he could probably ask why the hell he's done anything in these past few months and would have very little idea of the why behind it. With a sigh, he begins winding through the halls on a path he knows all too well. Whether it's because he was visiting Yuuko or grabbing something to eat after studying or dancing too much, the kitchens are where Yuuri's always gone to find comfort or a smile.

It feels wrong bringing Victor here.

They push through the doors to the large kitchens, Makka instantly trotting over to the bed that she has tucked close to the warmth of the ovens. The place is bustling with activity to prepare to feed Yuuri's pantheon of gods—at least until the gods here start to see who's come to visit. Yuuri's an unassuming and normal presence, but Victor? Eyes widen, jaws drop, and the gods closest to them step away.

Yuuri chances a glance at Victor, but his face is completely blank as his eyes flick about and take in the room. Interesting.

Before anything escalates, Yuuko scurries over from her place by the ovens and steps between Victor and the others. “My, how… surprising to see you both down here.” She shoots Yuuri a look, eyes wide and brow furrowed, but all Yuuri can do is give a shrug.

He sure as hell doesn't know what's going on.

“We were hoping for something to warm us up,” Yuuri says instead, resisting the urge to worry his hands. “Tea, maybe?”

“ _Tea_?”

Both Yuuri and Yuuko startle at the offense in Victor's face, at the way he pulls back just a bit.

“Is there something _wrong_ with my tea?” Yuuko places her hands on her hips, completely ignoring Yuuri as he shakes his head.

Victor would have a hell of a time killing Yuuko, but Yuuri's well aware that isn't the worst Victor is capable of. Or _was_ capable of, now that he's no longer under Minami's influence. If that even makes a difference.

Yuuri scowls. No, it's obviously changed something. But the question of _what_ still stands.

“Oh.” Victor's eyes widen. “No, I didn't… I didn't mean it anything like that. Your tea is perfectly acceptable.”

“ _Acceptable_.” Yuuko leans forward, glaring. “If you think that you can do any better, you're welcome to make your own damn tea. I don't know why the hell I still let anyone serve you in the first place, you ass.”

“I swear, that's not what I meant!” Victor raises his arms.

“Then what _did_ you mean?” Yuuri tries to keep his tone neutral, but he's not sure he hides his entertainment or his curiosity.

Victor glances quickly to Yuuri before turning back to Yuuko. “Tea's a fantastic beverage, especially when you make it—my tea in the Underworld has been fabulous, I've never had anything like it. I've just always…”

“Always what?” Her voice is still firm, trained thoroughly by her triplets, but Yuuri can see the crinkle of amusement at the corners with amusement.

It's just so _strange_. Everything is. But even stranger is the slight dusting of pink that spreads across Victor's cheeks. Yuuri sucks in a breath. He's never seen Victor look so soft.

“Well… when I would have fun in the snow, I would always have hot chocolate afterward.” Victor glances toward the floor, hands still raised.

Yuuri blinks. “‘Have fun in the snow?’”

Victor scoffs, such a small noise that Yuuri barely hears it. “I didn't learn how to throw a snowball just today. It has been quite a while, though. I don't really remember… Again, please let me apologize. It's probably something only for kids, anyhow.”

Probably. Like he doesn't know. Like he hasn't had the chance to grow up. And considering Victor had wanted to end the war to stop being used as a soldier and a weapon, it was more likely than Yuuri would like to admit.

“Hot chocolate isn't just for kids.” Yuuko smiles softly, if hesitantly. “Not when you make it as good as I do. You two can take the sitting room at the end of the hall, and I'll bring it to you when I can.”

“Thank you, Yuuko,” Yuuri dips his head slightly before turning and walking out of the room, finally feeling the heat of all the layers he has on. He didn't mean to dig at Victor's past, at the tangled knot he's sure it is. It's as if he's walking on a knife's edge, balancing between this new peace and the anger that he'd faced when he revived Victor all those years ago.

Yuuri opens the door, motioning Victor in. It's a cozy room, a fire crackling in the fireplace, and a few chairs placed around a table, a little more worn than most of the other furniture in the Underworld. It's a place for Yuuri to eat and relax with friends and family. He doubts any part of this is going to be relaxing.

Victor takes a seat quietly, taking a moment to look around. Using it as an excuse to look away, to think, Yuuri turns and hangs up his extra clothes on the coatrack.

Yuuri’s always assumed that Victor knew this mansion even better than he himself does, but maybe not. With Phichit working with him and his little hamsters keeping an eye on everything, he might not have had to. Would he be doing it himself, now? Is that what's he's been up to today?

Having nothing left to take off unless he was going to strip off his shirt, Yuuri turns slowly around.

Victor's eyes flick away, instead looking down to his clasped hands, a frown on his face

Yuuri makes his way over to the chair across and farthest from Victor—though it’s close enough he could reach over and touch Victor if he tried—trying and failing to fight back the guilt of his words earlier. Yuuri sighs. “I'm… sorry for bringing that up.”

Victor blinks a few times, looking up with eyes that seem too innocent to belong on his face.”What?”

“Your childhood.” Yuuri grimaces. “The war.”

“Oh.” Victor frowns. “But Yuuri, you ended it. Of all people, you shouldn't apologize.” Victor meets Yuuri's gaze, his expression so calm and open, Yuuri has to look away.

Yuuri's heart hammers painfully in his chest, his breaths coming far too fast. Dammit, he's never let Victor see him anxious, and he's not going to start now. He focuses on breathing deeply, keeping his eyes on the carpet. Victor doesn't mean it. He can't. “You say that like you didn't use Minami to rip away years of all your lives in anger,” he manages to spit out.

Victor sucks in a breath. “It was only ever about you. For the others, they didn’t feel it that often. Minami’s powers only activated when they were thinking about you. There were moments of anger, but they had more freedom with their emotions than that.”

The exception is obvious, teasing Yuuri and begging him to ask about it. And since when is he someone who resists what they should avoid? “But for you?”

“But for me…” Victor takes a long break, and Yuuri doesn't dare look up to see his expression. “For me it was all I had to cling to for a long time.”

Just like how Yuuri clung to Victor—no, the _idea_ of Victor. He didn’t know the man from meeting with him and dancing with him for a few minutes. It’s different, of course. So much of their relationship consists of jagged-edged puzzle pieces that don’t fit together.

“I… see,” Yuuri manages to get out, then gives a wry smile. “So I ended the war, as you said. But at what cost?”

Victor's brow furrows. “Yuuri, it cost you more than it ever did me.”

Yuuri's throat constricts, and he grits his teeth as he clenches his hands. “You… you can't just say that. Not when… not after...”

Victor has the decency to wince opening his mouth—

But then the door opens, the hinges creaking just slightly.

“Here's your hot chocolate.” Yuuko sets down the tray on the small table between the two of them. “The others are settled in the large sitting room toward the other end of the hall, so you shouldn't be disturbed.”

They shouldn't be disturbed, but if Yuuri needs help, they're close enough to reach them. Yuuri smiles as best he can right now. Though he's not sure whether he's more frustrated or thankful that she interrupted them, Yuuri is beyond grateful for her. “Thank you, Yuuko.”

She gives a small bow. “Of course! Is there anything else that I can do for you?” She meets Yuuri's eyes, her words once again holding a meaning more than what she actually says.

“No, you've done more than enough, Yuuko.” Yuuri bows his head toward her, trying and probably failing to show how much that means to him. “I'll call for you if I need anything else.”

“Of course.” She gives another small bow, then shoots a not-quite-glare at Victor. “I hope it's to your taste.” And then she leaves.

Another moment passes before Yuuri gives in and grabs his mug, dying for something to do. He takes a sip and resists moaning—it's so good, and the warmth of it seeps into his bones.

Victor mimics him, keeping his eyes on the floor. When he speaks, it's so quiet that Yuuri can barely be sure he hears the words right. “I'll go, if you want me too.”

Yuuri frowns. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to happen next, but it wasn't this. “You can finish your drink first, so long as you can behave.”

Victor gives a soft laugh. “I won't try anything, but that isn't what I meant.” He takes a breath, and it shakes as he exhales. “I'll leave the Underworld. I'll get out of your hair and you won't have to deal with me again.”

Yuuri clutches his mug tighter, taking another sip to buy himself some time. That would solve… everything, wouldn’t it? If Victor was gone, Yuuri would never even have to think of Victor again.

Well, he wouldn’t _have_ to, but he still _would._ If the past years have taught him anything, it’s that Yuuri cannot escape Victor, even on the occasion that he truly wants to.

“That’s impossible.” Yuuri lowers the mug, eyeing Victor. “The treaty is contingent upon us being _married_ ,” he spits out the word, his relationship to it as bitter as ever. “You only leave the Underworld to bring spring in. That’s it. You’re supposed to…” To what. To be Yuuri’s partner? To stay by his side? He supposes Victor has done that, stay close to him if only to get another attempt in on Yuuri’s life.

Victor snorts softly. “I know how to avoid Yakov and his people. I told you about how I found Makka, didn’t I? No one will know where I am, other than Chris and your household. Since spring is coming, it gives me a perfect excuse to go and just… stay.” He gives a wry smile. “You’ve been holding onto all of your winnings from out fencing matches, why not consider this your fair trade?”

If anyone could pull it off, it would be Victor. Now that he’s not constantly pissed off, maybe he doesn’t want to restart the war, maybe he hates it like he did when he was younger. Yuuri doesn’t _trust_ Victor, but he is probably capable, and has never broken a promise he’s made to Yuuri. Gods’ words have power, and Victor doesn’t try to side-step out of the ones that hold him. So, Yuuri could say yes. He _should_ say yes. Even if he talks to Minako, he knows what she’d suggest. The acceptance crawls up his throat and rests on his tongue, knowing that it’s the right thing to do. Get rid of Victor, and get rid of all his problems.

But if he gets rid of Victor, where will he go exactly? Will he be taken care of? And what about Makka, what will the poor girl feel when she can’t find Victor? How will Victor fare without her?

He should.

But he can’t.

Yuuri sighs. “What do _you_ want?”

Victor sits up a little straighter, a frown on his lips as he searches Yuuri’s face. “Does it matter what I want? I’ve tried to kill you.”

 _Tried_ , past tense. As if… Almost like… Yuuri shakes his head. “Well, I almost accidentally killed you, when I didn’t put your soul back into you right.”

Victor scoffs. “Once! And it wasn’t really a death, and you weren’t _trying_.”

Yuuri shrugs. “It might as well have been.”

Victor reaches out across the small gap between them, movements slow as he places a hand on Yuuri’s forearm. “No. No, it’s not. It isn’t even in the same realm. If…” His tone is hushed, eyes flicking away for a moment before turning right back toward Yuuri. “If Otabek’s power somehow accidentally led to Yurio getting killed, wouldn’t you feel differently than if he when he came down here he purposely tried to murder Yurio? Wouldn’t that difference matter?”

Yuuri frowns, looking toward where Victor’s hand rests on his arm, warm through the sleeve of his shirt. “Well, yes, but it’s not the same. I… Well, I fucked up.”

Victor shakes his head. “No. You _saved_ me, which makes the whole matter worse.” He takes a breath, and Yuuri glances up only to be pinned beneath the intensity of Victor’s gaze. “Yuuri, you deserve better than what you think of yourself.”

No.

 _No_.

Victor can’t… he shouldn’t… This isn’t _fair_. Victor can’t say or do these things. Not after _everything_ that’s gone on. He needs to stay in his awful little corner of Yuuri’s mind, a thorn that he wishes he could forget about. Not this. He can’t act like he cares, not for whatever little game that he’s playing.

Yuuri jerks his arm away from Victor, but the expression that flashes across Victor’s face makes the snarl in Yuuri’s mouth wither and die. Almost as if he’s hurt too.

Not that it changes anything. It can’t.

After taking a moment to breathe, Yuuri sets his cup down on the table, a small, ridiculous part of him disappointed he can’t finish the hot chocolate. “I will… consider your offer. I don’t know why you’re doing it, or what you’re playing at, but I’ll find out.”

“I hope you do find out, because I’m playing at nothing.” Victor bows his head, and Yuuri can’t tell if it’s in respect or he can’t bear to look at Yuuri any longer. “I don’t blame you for assuming that, but I’m sure Phichit would be able to tell you there’s no gossip about me doing anything because I’ve done nothing.”

“I won’t use Phichit like that.” Yuuri looks down his nose at Victor, catching the way he winces. “Phichit’s free to tell me what he wants, and see what he pleases. If you want to prove yourself trustworthy, do it yourself.”

That gets Victor to look up, staring at Yuuri a moment before nodding his head once. “I will.”

Yuuri tries to read his face for any lies, any tells, but he can’t find anything. He almost wishes he had, though.

“Good,” is all Yuuri can manage before he strides from the room, trying to keep his pace slow enough it doesn’t look like he’s fleeing—even if he is.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter eeeeeoooooons ago, somewhere in the chapter 10 area, and I kept snickering to myself thinking that absolutely NO ONE would believe me if I said that these two would be sitting down and drinking hot chocolate, and yet...
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone still reading along! I think we're about to pass 20k views on this fic? What??? What even????? I'm so grateful to everyone who keeps coming back, everyone who's left a kudo, and I grovel at the feet of all of my commenters. <3 <3 <3
> 
> [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	29. XXIX

Unfortunately, there are no snow days in hell, despite how much Yuuri would prefer that there were. The warmer weather of the Underworld creeps back in through the front of the storm that Yurio had brought in, the snowball wrecked yard melting into the green lawn beneath.

Yuuri’s thoughts can’t help but turn toward the partially built snowman somewhere in the forest, but he doesn’t have the heart to see if it’s still there or gone.

He doesn’t see Victor around much as the days pass ever-closer to spring. He has to be up to something; he’s Victor, after all. But is he up to some murder plot, or… is he maybe going to try and earn Yuuri’s trust?

It isn’t the latter, Yuuri knows this, but he can’t help but think about it.

Yuuri sighs as he gets up from the chair in his study, moving toward the large windows along the wall. The snow’s practically gone, which means that the fencing will have to start again, and the death of all of those ridiculous thoughts Yuuri keeps having.

He absolutely refuses to think about the option that maybe, like last time they fought, Victor won’t try to take Yuuri’s life. After all, what else could Victor possibly want?

A knock echoes through the room, jarring Yuuri from his thoughts. He turns back around, striding to his desk, even though he doesn’t sit down. “Come in.”

The door opens quickly, Otabek slipping in and making sure the door is thoroughly shut before coming toward Yuuri and bowing.

“Oh, stand up.” Yuuri waves a hand, even as he frowns. Something feels… off.“I wish you’d stop doing that. Still, what’s wrong?”

There’s a twitch of Otabek’s lips as he almost smiles—though it’s as good as a smile in Otabek’s book. “Do I really only talk to you when I have bad news?”

Yuuri nearly rolls his eyes, but keeps his focus on Otabek’s face instead. “No, but something’s wrong.” It’s not the god himself, but there’s this aura, this feeling that’s so familiar to Yuuri that’s too close to place.

Otabek lowers his head. “Yes. It’s Nikolai.”

And suddenly Yuuri knows exactly what’s on the edge of his senses: death. “He’s sick, isn’t he?”

Otabek nods.

Yuuri leans against his desk. Nikolai is more devoted to his grandson, little Yuiro, than anything Yuuri’s ever seen. He used to visit Yurio all the time right after the peace treaty was finalized, giving Yurio a connection to his old life before Yuuri went and ripped him from it. But he’s an old god, ancient. Older than Yuuri’s parents, even. And his cause of death is simple, easy to figure out considering how immune gods normally are to the sicknesses of mortals; his death will be caused by the common cold.

There’s always the chance he’ll fight it off, but then again, there’s always the chance he won’t. Yuuri should head to the Overworld and see if he can tell how close he is, if there’s a treatment that—

Oh.

He can’t go.

If Yurio goes to the Overworld, he’ll have to go alone.

Yuuri rests his hands on the desk, looking down. “Does Yurio know?”

“No.” Otabek’s voice is quieter than before. “But he deserves to know.”

Yuuri glances up, the bangs of his hair hanging in his vision. It’s getting too long, but it’s not like he has the time to care about it with everything else going on. “Why don’t you tell him?”

Otabek scowls. “Because Yakov ordered me not to. He says that Yurio’s still needed down here to support you and keep the peace. But I’ve seen how things have changed, and I think more than anything Yurio’s more of a distraction than a help. But one doesn’t argue with Yakov.”

Yuuri frowns. It’s true, all of it. He’ll be sad to see Yurio leave, but it’s family, and Yuuri understands what that means. But Yuuri needs to keep Yakov on his side, so what’s there to do? If he ordered Otabek—Oh. “But Yakov never said you couldn’t tell me, did he? And he wouldn’t dare suggest what I can and cannot do.”

Otabek gives a small smile. “You’ll still have to take the fall, of course. He might not know I’m the one who told you, but Yurio is very…” So very Yurio. Yuuri would trust the young god with his life, but not his secrets. Otabek’s reasoning is sound, as always “I’d never want to ask you to do this, but I have no other choice.”

Yuuri smiles grimly. “No, I’m happy you trust me enough, and are looking after him. Gods know he needs it, sometimes. You care about him, don’t you?”

Otabek hesitates a moment, then nods. “When he was younger, he was always running after Victor, trying to learn how to be better than him, but he was impressive enough on his own. I admired him from afar. He’s so focused and determined, and I wanted to see what he’d become.”

Yuuri’s smile droops a little as the honesty of Otabek’s words sink in. Yuuri knows that feeling a little too well. The parallel isn’t lost on him. And Yuuri’s happy it’s worked out so well for Yurio and Otabek, that Yurio has a friend that he can rely on, but a bitter thorn of jealousy digs into Yuuri’s gut.

How come Yuuri couldn’t have had that?

Yuuri gives a long sigh. “I’ll tell him. And I am not in charge of you, but if he goes, please accompany him.”

Otabek’s brow furrows. “But Minami?”

“Minami’s my responsibility. Not Yakov’s, not yours. If I can’t take care of him, I’ve failed in my duty to him and my kingdom.” Yuuri takes in a breath. “Besides, if something happens with Nikolai… Yurio could use a friend. Mila isn’t close enough to him, and I… Well.” He wishes he could go more than anything, but he can’t even leave the damned Underworld to visit for a few hours.

Otabek nods slowly. “Understood. Should I find him, then?”

“Please.” Yuuri waves to the door, grateful to get away from this conversation.

Otabek leaves quickly, nearly jogging from the room. How bad is Nikolai’s condition? Gods, if Yurio loses his last family member… Victor’s already let him down, and everyone knows what a mess Yuuri is. If the damn peace treaty—if _Yuuri_ kept Yurio here for the last few years of Nikolai’s life, how will Yurio be able to stand him? How will Yuuri be able to stand himself?

The door bangs open, and Yurio strides into the room, a small frown on his face, but otherwise not distressed in the least. Otabek follows closely behind, and then Mila trails in, glancing at Yuuri with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you want, Katsudon?” Yurio steps up to the desk, his words sharp, but lacking the venom that Yuuri’s become accustomed to. “Is everything all right?”

Yuuri nods. “For now it’s okay. But you need to go to the Overworld.”

There’s a second of silence before Mila’s jaw drops and Yurio snaps, “What?”

Yuuri takes a breath. “It’s not—”

“I spend years down here with you, and you’re just going to throw me away like fucking trash? All while Dicktor is running around, trying to murder your ass? But you don’t do a damn thing about him.” He jabs a finger at Yuuri’s chest. “Fuck you.”

A smile flits across Yuuri’s face. “Did you just call Victor ’Dicktor?’”

Yurio flushes a bright scarlet.”That doesn’t fucking matter because it’s true and you know it. What the hell are you thinking?”

It’s then that Yuuri catches how Yurio’s eyes shine, how he grits his teeth to stop the tears from spilling over. “Oh no, Yurio. You’re right it’s not important. I’m not sending you away, you could stay if you wanted to, but I don’t think you will. Your grandpa is sick, Yurio.”

Yurio freezes all fire fleeing from his eyes. “What?”

“I’ve only just learned that he’s sick, and I’m not sure how bad it is.” Gently, so Yurio can swat him away if need be, Yuuri puts his hand on his shoulder. “Again, I’m not telling you what you have to do, you’re always welcome here, you know that. Just… you should go. I would go with you, but I…”

Yurio nods, eyes focused somewhere beyond Yuuri. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve gotta…” He focuses on Yuuri. “I’m going.”

Yuuri nods. Good. It’s what he should do.

“I meant it about Dicktor, though.” A small grin spreads across Yurio’s lips, not quite reaching his eyes. “Be careful. And call me back if you need me to kick his ass.”

Yuuri can’t help but laugh. “I did promise you that you could kill him.”

“Exactly.” Yurio’s grin grows a little.

“All right, get going before I change my mind. And…” Yuuri bites his lip. “Take care of each other, okay?”

Yurio snorts. “Sap. We’ll be back soon, Katsudon.”

And then the door’s shut, and Yuuri’s alone.

Well, not quite alone.

“That was generous of you.” Mila strides forward from the corner she’d been standing in, nearly forgotten. “I don’t know if I’d risk it with Victor still around.”

“Still around?” Yuuri arches an eyebrow. “What are you planning? And why are you here?”

Mila shrugs, grinning. “I was hanging out with Yurio when Otabek came. And what if I was planning something?”

Yuuri scowls. “Don’t you dare. We’re finally…” Finally what? It doesn’t feel like they're quite at peace, things are a far cry from how they were before had gone up to the mortal world and stumbled into a marriage with Victor.

Mila’s grin only widens. “Oh, I won’t dare, not without knowing what you’re up to, first. I noticed that you and Victor have been… different.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “He hasn’t tried to kill me for a little while, that doesn’t mean that we’re anything. There isn’t even a ’we’ beyond our sham of a marriage.”

“I saw you guys after that snow day.” Mila raises her eyebrows. “You were closer than a murderer and murderee.”

Yuuri sits down at his desk, rubbing his forehead. “That’s not even a word.”

“Doesn’t matter, you know what I mean.”

Yuuri sighs. “Why are you asking about this?”

“Because you’re my friend, Yuuri.” Something ruffles his hair, and Yuuri looks up to meet Mila’s eyes. “I want to be able to just tease you about this, but I’m worried, too. You’re playing with fire.”

“I know not to get close,” Yuuri murmurs. “I’m not. I’m just… I don’t know what he’s up to. And I need to know. Phichit seems to be done supporting him, Minami’s just focused on harnessing his powers so this doesn’t happen again, and Chris even apologized.”

“He did what?” Mila takes a step back. “After how he’s been acting, I thought…”

“I know, I know.” Yuuri shakes his head. “And Victor’s being… he’s… I don’t know. He hasn’t apologized, but he’s said…” Unimaginable things. Things Yuuri might have managed to dream about Victor saying before everything in their past had happened, but now? “He might be up to something, I don’t know. He’s just different.”

“And it’s not like he was really subtle before.” Mila frowns. “But I’m happy that you’re being safe. Or, well, as safe as you ever are.”

Yuuri gives a wry smile. “At least I’m predictable?”

Mila snorts. “You? Predictable? I would never make the accusation. You do too many ridiculous things that drive Yurio up a wall for that.”

“Well, you do have a point.” Yuuri shakes his head. “You have no idea what Victor might be up too, do you? You know just about everything I know now, and I’m clueless.”

“I’m afraid we all are, at this point.” She shrugs. “If he doesn’t want you dead, I’ve got no idea what he’s up to. And if he does want you dead, well… is he getting any closer than he was before?”

“No. If anything, he’s getting farther from it.” Depending on how someone might look at it, Yuuri supposes. The opposite could be true as well—but it’s not as if Victor’s actively trying right now, anyway. “Though we’ll see how it goes next time he wins a fencing match.”

Mila scowls. “You two are still doing that?”

Yuuri shrugs. “He said he’d keep himself and his friends from hurting my friends as long as we were fencing. And…”

“And?”

Yuuri looks away. “I’m kind of curious about what he wants out of it, now.”

Mila sighs. “You’re a lost cause, you know that?”

“Well aware, don’t you worry.” Yuuri scowls. “A totally confused and useless lost cause.”

Mila’s quiet for a moment, taking in Yuuri. “Maybe you should talk to Minako about this?”

“Who’s to say I haven’t already?” Yuuri bristles, narrowing his eyes.

“Your reaction says more than enough.” Mila laughs walking toward the door. “I should go, though. We left Makkachin in my rooms when Otabek came, and you know how she likes to chew through pillows.”

Yuuri winces. Oh, he knows all too well. “I understand. And… thanks.”

She shoots a smile over her shoulder before disappearing back into the hall.

Yuuri leans back, letting himself stare at the ceiling for a moment. It should be simple now that all the truths are out and uncovered, but if anything it’s just grown more complex in a different way.How ridiculous it is to go from being at Victor’s mercy, to being proud with a plan, to… this.

With a sigh, Yuuri glances out of his window and eyes how the shadows fall across the lawn. He does have time before he should see if Victor’s turned up for fencing, and Mila is probably right. He could really use a chat with Minako.

Somewhat wishing he hadn’t left Makka with Mila and Yurio so that he could get some work done, Yuuri walks the empty halls alone. A part of him stays ever-alert, honed by months of Victor’s people lurking in the hallways.

But they aren’t really Victor’s people anymore, are they?

“Yuuri! What a pleasant surprise,” Minako says with absolutely no surprise whatsoever as she opens the door to her rooms.

Yuuri narrows his eyes as he collapses onto one of Minako’s soft seats. “So you’ve heard?”

Minako follows suit, sitting with much more grace and crossing her legs. “I haven’t heard any of the gossip, but it’s about time for you to stop by. Why, has Victor done anything?”

Yuuri can’t help but chuckle at the way her eyes narrow. “No, he’s done… nothing.” But that isn’t exactly true, is it? Victor’s done a lot of things, has said a lot of things, but none of them have the edge that Yuuri’s used to.

“Hmm. If I had to guess, that doesn’t sound like nothing, kiddo. But that aside, why _did_ you come here?”

“Do I really always come here to talk about Victor?”

Minako raises her eyebrows.

Yuuri sighs. “Fine. Yurio’s going to the Overworld. Not to stay, but it’s… it’s his grandfather.”

“Oh.” Minako’s voice is gentle, lacking its bite. “And you can’t go.”

Yuuri bites his lip, and nods. “I can’t go, and I’m losing someone I can trust. It’s selfish of me, but why _now_?”

“Do you feel that threatened?” Minako leans forward, watching Yuuri like a hawk. “From what you’ve told me, Minami’s nearly harmless, Phichit’s almost your friend again, and Victor hasn’t attempted to harm you since the emotional manipulation powers were destroyed. Hell, his attempts since you rescued him the second time have been half-hearted at best.”

“Do you…” Yuuri swallows, trying to wet his mouth despite it insisting on being dry. “Do you think he’s done trying to kill me?”

“What do _you_ think?”

“I think…” Yuuri takes a shaking breath, his next words so quiet it’s a wonder Minako can hear them at all. “I think I’m scared.” He looks down at his feet, refusing to even glance up.

“Oh kiddo,” Minako breathes, and then raises her voice. “Why?”

“Because he’s been so… so _kind_ , almost” Yuuri clasps his hands together, grimacing. “And it’s not like he’s who I thought he would be when I first met him, there isn’t anyone—god or mortal—who could reach those expectations. I know that. But he… he’s playing at caring, and I hate it. I hate that he’s up to something and that I want to fall for it, and now one of the few people I can completely count on is _gone_ and I can’t even follow after him because of the bastard I gave that power to.”

Yuuri reminds himself to breathe, finding his hands trembling. “I can’t help support Yurio, and I… I’m afraid of what I might do or say or feel.”

Hands wrap around Yuuri’s and he jerks upright, finding Minako knelt before him.

“It’s okay to be afraid, you know.” She gives his hands a gentle squeeze.

“No, it’s _not_.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m Death. I have an entire world— _all_ the worlds to keep running smoothly. I might not be as powerful as Life, but I’m just as critical, and I don’t have time to be afraid, and I don’t have time to hope.”

Her eyes widen just a bit. “Hope?”

“I…” Damn. She won’t let go of it now that he’s said something—and this just proves his point. It just takes up time and energy he shouldn’t be using. “I don’t know if Victor’s being honest. I don’t know how much of him Minami’s power had twisted. I don’t know if I should trust him.”

“But you want to.” It isn’t a question.

Yuuri sighs. “Unfortunately. I should know better, I know.”

“Yuuri.” Minako’s voice has a commanding tone, forcing Yuuri’s eyes to stay on her. “You have every right to feel how you feel. You may have an important position, and you may have to maintain a better facade than most gods will ever have to. However, you have every right to feel how you feel. It isn’t right or wrong to have emotions.”

“But I—”

“No buts.” Minako has a small smile. “Emotions aren’t logical or controllable. You have them, and you deal with them the best you can. It’s okay to be afraid, and it’s okay to have hope in something. It’s what you do with those emotions that’s in your hands.”

“Then what do I do?” Yuuri murmurs, voice cracking slightly.

“That’s up to you, kiddo. I can give you advice, but you have to make the choices.”

Yuuri leans back, away from Minako, and stares at the ceiling. “Why does it always have to be hard? Why can’t there be easy answers?”

Minako snorts. “If you find out the answer to that one, let me know.”

Yuuri’s lips twitch into a smile. “I will.”

“But for now…” Minako stands up, brushing off her knees. “Stop beating yourself up for feeling emotions. Sometimes you feel things for a reason, sometimes you don’t.”

Yuuri laughs. “Easier said than done.”

“I know. It’s a slow process, but you’ll get there.” Minako frowns at something just beyond Yuuri’s shoulder. “Speaking of getting somewhere, it’s about time for fencing, isn’t it?”

“How did you know I was going to fence this evening?” Yuuri stiffens.

“Because the snow’s melted. You told me about this, remember?” She lightly flicks Yuuri on the forehead. “Besides, sounds like you have some things to work out that I can’t help you with.”

Yuuri snorts. Like Victor’s ever helped with anything. “I guess you’re right.” He gets to his feet, glancing toward the door, but hesitates. “Thanks, Minako.”

“You know I’m always here for you kiddo.” She ruffles his hair until he bats her away. “Not get going before you’re late.”

“Yeah, yeah.” And Yuuri does leave, a smile on his face for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week, back to the plot! Next week, though... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> And a few things!
> 
> 1\. I probably won't post the lenny-worthy alternate ending to the fencing match in Chapter XXV for a little while still (if you wanna check it out now, check out the link Twitter bio!), but just note that Resplendent is now a part of a series and you may want to subscribe. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> 2\. My borthday was this past Wednesday and? I?? Got Resplendent presents??? *wheezes* Check out [this gorgeous Yuuri](https://twitter.com/caramel_draws/status/1121043853249847301) by [caramel_draws](https://twitter.com/caramel_draws/) (look at those EYES!!!), and [this beautiful Victor](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts/status/1121044834159140864) by [mandolinearts](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts/) (look at those FLOWERS!!!), and [this WIP of a poem](https://twitter.com/reluctantlyback/status/1121063182137724929) by [reluctantlyback](https://twitter.com/reluctantlyback/) (look at those GORGEOUS WORDS!!!) (the same person started an [incorrect Resplendent quotes blog](https://incorrectresplendentquotes.tumblr.com/) and I'm d y i n g). I cannot believe that this happened??? But it's all so amazing and good and pretty pls check out this absolutely breathtaking work!
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for reading and supporting this fic!!! Your comments feed my attention parched brain and keep it from shriveling away to nothing. <3
> 
> [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	30. XXX

“You came.” The words fall out of Victor's mouth without emotion, but his wide eyes tell enough.

He wasn't expecting Yuuri.

Yuuri bites back a sigh. “You said we'd start fencing again once the snow melts.” Yuuri waves a hand around him. “The snow's nearly gone.”

“Yes, but…” Victor looks around, as if he didn't notice that the snow had melted until Yuuri pointed it out. “I wouldn't have forced you to.”

“It's our deal,” Yuuri says dryly.

“It is.” Victor's gaze focuses back on Yuuri. “But we could always change the deal.”

Yuuri narrows his eyes. “And what would you want out of a new deal?”

Victor shrugs. “Nothing, really.”

Yuuri stills. Victor hasn't tried to kill Yuuri recently, he hasn't asked Yuuri for anything, no one's said a word about him being up to anything. Yuuri knows better than to think that Phichit hasn't been keeping an eye on things wherever he can, and he knows that he'd hear about anything truly bad Victor's been up to. Reasonably, Victor wouldn't have to go this far to kill Yuuri. It's honestly shocking that he hasn't tried for something that's so damn obvious—but that also says something doesn't it.

A faint flicker of hope blooms in Yuuri's chest, and Yuuri's instant guilt wars with Minako's words. He has every right to feel it, maybe. But he doesn't want to.

“If it's all the same to you, let's just stick with our routine.” Yuuri tries to make the words sharp, something that makes sense coming out of Death's mouth, but he knows they're more tired than they should be.

Victor hesitates. “You're sure?”

Yuuri nods. It probably doesn't make much sense. The fencing matches were to stop Chris, Minami, and Phichit mostly, but also to keep Victor under control.

And what part of that is really relevant now?

Still, Victor chooses the blades to fight with—a simple foil—and they take their positions.

This was never Yuuri's favorite weapon; too light, not as satisfying when it connects with its target, but he was trained in it all the same. And it's not lost of Yuuri how little damage this weapon can do with a winning strike as opposed to the heavier weapons that Victor favors.

That won't lead to Yuuri showing mercy, though.

When Victor starts the match, Yuuri's off in a flash of movement, stabbing with a calculated viciousness at Victor’s chest.

Victor catches the strike, and then their motions are a blur. Yuuri can’t think about what he’s doing, it’s just instinct. The sound of his own breathing fills his ears, nearly covering the sound of their shuffling feet and the constant collision of their blades. He can’t let Victor win. He can’t know what Victor wants.

But part of him is curious.

Yuuri grits his teeth as he presses in, pushes Victor back and to the edge of the courtyard. Victor’s lips are set in a determined line and his eyes are absolutely focused, matching Yuuri step for step and blow for blow. He isn’t holding back, and neither is Yuuri, and… they may very well be evenly matched.

He wasn’t sure after Victor had gotten better, what with their fencing matches being so few and far between, but maybe Yuuri can actually stand on his own. Maybe…

Yuuri’s focus jars for a split second as his thoughts wrap around him, and Victor jumps in tapping the tip of his foil over Yuuri’s racing heart.

But he doesn’t stab. He could, he could easily go for it and count it as his win and Yuuri would…

But he doesn’t.

“Fine.” Yuuri spits as he gasps in breaths, taking a step away from that sharp tip. He resists the childish urge to throw his sword to the ground and cross his arms as the sweat cools on his skin. “You win. What do you want?”

“What do I want…?” Victor murmurs, looking off to his side, eyes focusing somewhere across the grounds. It’s not a teasing remark, like he’s rubbing it in, but like he honestly doesn’t know.

Yuuri would snap at him to decide, but did he really know what he wanted ifhe would have won, either? He could order Victor to go, but that’s not what he wants. He could order Victor to stay, but that isn’t what he wants, either. Minako said it’s what he does with his own emotions that counts, but what if he shies away and never does anything at all? Maybe _that_ would justify his guilt.

“I would like…” Victor turns his attention back to Yuuri, his expression almost soft. “I would like to apologize.”

Yuuri freezes. The wind whispers cold against his skin, but it’s nothing compared to the sinking chill spreading from his insides outwards. “You… what?”

Victor takes a breath, lifting his shoulders. “I’m sorry. For all of the trouble I’ve caused you and your gods—your friends. I just… want you to know that.”

The cold within Yuuri snaps, howling through his veins and his mind. What is _this_? Does he think he can just say a few words and make it all better? Does he think _this_ will earn him Yuuri’s trust? No. Never. He’ll _never_ have what Yuuri gave him so willingly once, only to have it torn to little bits and thrown in his face. This is no resolution to all of the conflict Victor’s brought into his life, but… But he’s trying. For whatever reason.

Yuuri bites back the yelling and screaming and crying that wants to burst forward, instead getting out one, hoarse word, “Why?”

Victor takes a shaking breath, hunching forward a bit like he wants to curl into himself. “I want to be better. I want you to… For you to…”

“No.” Yuuri snaps, his hand holding the foil twitching. “Victor, I don’t know what you want from me. Killing me won’t fix you. Making amends or whatever the hell this is won’t fix you. The only thing that can fix you is _you_. It’s terrible, believe me, I know the feeling. But that’s the truth.”

Victor opens his mouth, then thinks better of it and hangs his head instead. “I… understand.”

“Do you?” It’s something that Yuuri could easily spit out with venom, but he doesn’t even think too. He earnestly wants to know.

Victor hesitates for a moment, eyes flicking around as he mulls it over. “Yes. I think so.” He takes a shaky breath.“Still. I’m sorry.” Victor murmurs. “I know there’s only so much that words can do after everything I’ve done, but I’m truly sorry.”

Yuuri takes a moment, trying and failing to settle the thoughts writhing in his mind. “My mother always told me that if someone’s truly sorry, they show it by changing their ways.”

Victor bites his lip and nods. “I… understand.”

Does he _really_ , though? But there’s no use in asking the question again, so Yuuri chooses his next words carefully.“So, now what are you going to do?”

Silence stretches on for a long moment, and Yuuri wonders if he pushed Victor too far. He wants to believe Victor wants to be better, but what evidence does he have that it’s what will happen?

Victor gives a wry smile. “I suppose I’ll have to do my best.”

Yuuri nearly snaps that his best won’t be enough, not after _everything_. But… that would be a lie. If Victor tries, if he actively changes and doesn’t go after Yuuri, if he tries and make things better, it would be enough. For what, Yuuri isn’t entirely sure, but… An earnest change? Something that Victor tries to do and makes steps forward without any ulterior motive?

Yuuri wants to see that. More than anything, even if Yuuri can never forgive Victor fully, he wants that. Maybe their marriage is and always will be a sham, but maybe it doesn’t have to be hatred and anger and distance. Maybe it could be something softer, something…

Yuuri shakes his head. He’s getting ahead of himself. That tiny little flame of hope in him is growing too large for its own damn good.

“All right.” Yuuri nods. “That’ll have to be enough, then.”

Victor bows his head slightly in acknowledgment, and Yuuri strides away to put away his foil and head inside.

Gods know he could use a visit with Makkachin after all of this.

 

###

 

Yuuri’s already half-awake when he hears a knock on his bedroom door.

It’s been a restless night and it’s already past midnight somehow. Tomorrow’s going to be hell between dancing and fencing. He’d ask Minami to handle the dancing, but considering he’d run the young god ragged with control exercises yesterday, at the most Yuuri could only ask the Minami for assistance. Emptying a god’s store of power has limited side effects, but it’s a frustrating thing to recover from.

He shakes his trailing thoughts from his head as Makka looks toward him, a questioning lilt to her head. The last time he’d gotten woken up this late—early?—was when Victor had nearly slipped into a coma. This time there’s no Yurio to run to. Mila might be able to help, but she’s farther away than Yurio had been, and…

Damn, he just can’t focus, can he?

He gets out of bed before he can distract himself again, whispering for Makka to stay before leaving the bedroom and locking it behind him. She may be a three-headed hellhound, but she’s Yuuri’s pup and he’s not taking risks regarding whatever’s beyond that door.

In slow, silent steps, Yuuri comes to the door to his chambers, hand hesitating on the doorknob. He’s Death itself. He rules an entire world. He’s done the impossible and resurrected the dead—twice. He has nothing to be afraid of.

He swings the door open—

And goes absolutely still.

There’s a figure a few steps away, turned like they were about to leave. But Yuuri knows that frame, knows that silver hair, just as much as he knows the exact shade of those blue eyes that aren’t even looking at him right now.

“Victor?” Yuuri whispers, like he’s afraid if he talks too loud, it will break some illusion. In fact, he should want to break it, should scream and shout if that would do the trick and send Victor away.

But curiosity killed the cat, as they say.

Victor turns around slowly, head ducked almost as if he’s ashamed, not meeting Yuuri’s eyes.

“What are you doing here?” It might come out of Yuuri’s mouth harsher than intended, but his mind can’t help but remember that night that was so recent yet so long ago, finding Victor almost gone. He’s fine, he’s here and he’s walking, he’s got to be fine, but Yuuri’s mind races as if he has no control of it.

Victor winces, then takes a breath. “I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri stands even straighter, gripping the doorframe as if his life depended on it. “What did you do?”

Victor raises his hands. “No! I didn’t do anything. Not right now, at least.”

“Then why are you here?” Yuuri doesn’t relax, and doesn’t back down. If this is Victor trying something, after everything the previous day had been,…

“I…” Victor looks away. “Sometimes when I fall asleep, I dream that Makka’s still dead. When I wake up, it’s like she’s freshly gone again, and it’s good knowing that she’s here, but I can’t…” He swallows, the movement so slight in the dim light seeping from Yuuri’s room. “I just want to see her. I need to know I’m not… alone.”

Yuuri’s chest aches with such a sudden intensity that he raises his hand over his heart, clutching at his night clothes. Makka’s been at Yuuri’s side for so long, cuddling with him, playing with him, hell even eating with him, that Yuuri can’t even imagine what it would be like to have her snatched away without any warning. Even if everything he’s done since isn’t remotely excusable, it really puts into perspective what Victor must’ve been feeling that winter’s day so many years ago.

“Come in.” Yuuri waves his arm and steps further into the room, walking toward his bedroom. It isn’t like it’s the first time Victor’s even been in there, and he hadn’t tried anything before, so…

Yuuri unlocks his bedroom door and motions Victor forward, stepping aside.

Victor walks with such tentative steps that Yuuri almost laughs. It isn’t as if Yuuri’s the one out to kill Victor—he’s saved him enough times to prove that. But he makes it into the dim room, Yuuri following shortly behind.

Once Makka stops pouting on the bed about Yuuri leaving enough to raise her head, she lets out a loud bark. Her tongue lolls out and she scrambles to the floor, unsettling all the sheets before she hops around Victor.

Victor chuckles softly, leaning down to pet her with a gentle hand and a shaky smile on his face.

Makka, of course, is having none of that, butting harder into Victor’s hand and giving a soft _boof_. He uses both hands and her tail thumps against the floor while she sits, gazing up at him.

Even Yuuri can’t help but smile a little. It looks… right. Makkachin may be Yuuri’s dog, but it’s obvious when they’re together that she’s Victor’s dog, too. Maybe it’s been more frustrating for her than anyone to watch them fight for so long. Hell, what would it have been like if Yuuri and Victor had married without all of this nonsense? Would they be…?

Victor glances up, the small happiness on his face sliding off as he catches Yuuri’s expression. “I’m sorry, I’ll—”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Yuuri walks around them to sit on his bed, his body suddenly heavy with exhaustion. “I have nights like this often.”

Victor blinks at Yuuri. “You do?”

Yuuri can’t help but give a humorless laugh. “I do. Like I said, I struggle with things in my head, too. It’s just different. And if seeing Makka helps, well.” Yuuri shrugs.

“Is there anything that helps you?” Victor glances over at him—close enough that Yuuri can see the faint freckles on his face, but far enough away that Yuuri’s not uncomfortable.

“Ah, sometimes dancing. Though… not in recent years.” Yuuri glances away, frowning. He’d go out to his garden and dance until he was so exhausted his legs gave out. It doesn’t have the same draw it once had without the ability to create life—and probably for the better. It couldn’t have been healthy for him. “Do you do anything?”

“Not dance.” The words leave Victor’s mouth with a chill that makes Yuuri shiver. “It reminds me of too much. But I read, sometimes.”

“Oh.” It’s an odd mental image, Victor sitting curled up around a book instead of jabbing a sword at Yuuri. Is that what he spends all of his time doing, now? Reading instead of nefarious plotting?

“It’s one of my few hobbies. I never had too much time for anything else.” Victor shrugs.

“So you’re where Yurio gets it from, then?” Yuuri rolls his eyes just a bit, remembering how Otabek just mentioned how Yurio used to trail Victor around.

“What?” Victor tilts his head, and suddenly Yuuri realizes he looks just like Makka when he does that.

Yuuri bites his lip to keep from laughing. “He was, um. Incredibly focused when he came down. I’m pretty sure Mari had to drag him out of the mansion a few times, and Minako had to talk sense into him constantly.”

Victor smiles. “I’m happy he’s found his family down here. He has his grandfather, of course, but I’d rather him have this than…”

Than what Victor had. His life hinged on Makkachin, until it didn’t, and he’s still recovering.

“He has a lot of support if anything happens to Nikolai,” Yuuri says softly.

Victor nods, glancing toward the door.

Yuuri looks, too. Victor probably should be going. Yuuri isn’t going to get any sleep, he’s already wound up to tight, so Victor can take Makkachin for the night. It’s been a while since Makka wandered off with Victor, so it’s no wonder that he needed to see her tonight.

But what exactly changed for Victor to seek Makka out this night as opposed to all the ones before it?

Makka must feel the change in the air, or maybe she’s just upset Victor stopped petting her as much, because she leaps up onto Victor, knocking him backward onto the bed just over a foot from Yuuri. And she doesn’t stop there, scrambling up onto the bed to collapse onto him with enough force that Yuuri hears a slight, “Oof.”

“You okay?” Yuuri raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m—” Victor cuts off as a yawn overtakes him.

Yuuri frowns. Hell, maybe they aren’t so even at fencing, if Victor was this tired while they were fighting earlier. Though he didn’t look nearly as exhausted as he’s looked in the past… “Victor? How often do you have episodes at night like this?”

Victor closes his eyes, but his hand keeps moving through Makka’s fur as she nuzzles closer. “Well… very often.”

Yuuri frowns. If he had these issues, one of the people who care for him would make sure he took care of himself. But Yuuri’s not sure how close Victor and Chris are, and Phichit and Minami are keeping their distance after everything, understandably. How ironic that right here, right now, Yuuri’s the one closest to Victor. “I know that you might not want to hear this, and I know you hate me, but—”

“I don’t hate you.” Victor’s voice is soft, so unbelievably soft in a way that Yuuri hadn’t thought it capable of being. He wants to reach out and wrap his fingers into it, draw more of it out of this Victor, who looks so gentle—almost like one wrong word from Yuuri could break him, shatter him.

“You’ve tried to kill me, Victor.” It should sound like an accusation, laced with all the venom that Yuuri can tear out of his shattered heart, but his tone only matches Victor’s. “A lot.”

“I… I did. But it wasn’t…” He takes a shaking breath and… and opens his eyes. “It was never about _you_. Please know that—I know now that I didn’t know you. I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want you to die. I just wanted… I wanted to escape, and you were blocking the door out. I’m not using that as an excuse, I know I messed up beyond anything that words or actions can truly fix, but just… Please know that.”

Yuuri bites his lip, not knowing how to respond. “A-anyway, what I was saying before. You should talk to Minako. She can really help with this kind of thing. It’s still up to you to make a change, but you don’t have to do it alone.”

Victor’s eyes flutter shut again, his hand moving slowly through Makka’s fur. “That…. That sounds nice. I will.”

“Good.” Yuuri smiles, leaning back on his elbows—only for Makka to kick out her back legs out onto Yuuri’s lap, pinning him down. He turns to tease Victor about controlling his dog, only to find that the hand petting Makka had stilled, and his breathing slowed.

Hand shaking a bit, Yuuri reaches out and lifts Victor’s fringe, finding both eyes completely closed and not even a flutter of reaction on his face.

Yuuri pulls away, falling back onto the bed and clutching his hand to his chest. Victor looks so… so _peaceful_ like this. More so than he’s ever seen him. Like all the ragged bits of him are smoothed out and calm. Now that he knows so much more, it makes sense that Victor’s soul was so ragged when Yuuri saved him. It makes sense that Victor had forgotten their first meeting when he was so run down and exhausted. Yuuri’s never been so grateful for the family and friends he has than this very moment, as Victor slumbers underneath his old best friend.

Yuuri yawns. He should really move out to the sofa in the other room, though he doesn’t want to move Makka now that she’s passed out cold. Besides, he won’t be sleeping while Victor, of all people, is in his personal space.

He’ll just wait a few minutes longer, then. He’ll be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But WILL he? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Real talk, I said in another fic of mine, "Is it really one of my fics if there isn't some sort of bed sharing?" AND ONLY ONE OF YA'LL EVEN CONSIDERED THAT IT WOULD HAPPEN IN RESPLENDENT, FOR SHAAAAAME. (I know some of you only read Resplendent, so you're excused, BUT THE REST OF YOU!!!) But, if you want to know about the morning after, the next chapter's up on the site linked my Twitter bio. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> ALSO HOLY CRAP [LOOK AT THIS AMAZING ART](https://twitter.com/hana_tox/status/1122808949470715905) BY HANA-TOX I AM D Y I N G, I'VE BEEN DYING FOR DAYS!!! SOMEONE HELP ME DIG MY GRAVE PLS!!!
> 
> Also also, if you happen to need something to read after this *[slides domestic, soft, monstrous space mermaid Victuuri drabbles for mermay at u](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661381)*
> 
> Thank you so, so, so much to everyone reading this!!! And blessings to everyone who takes the time to comment, all of you help me get through my weeks. <3
> 
> [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	31. XXXI

Yuuri’s warm.

It’s not that unusual when he wakes up, really. His blankets are warm, and Makka tends to either drape across him or cuddle up next to him. But this feels… different.

Awareness drips into him, and it’s obvious that the weight of his bedding is missing, parts of him cooler than usual, but so warm where he clutches Makkachin.

With a small grumble, Yuuri moves closer, curling his fingers to thread them through Makka’s fur—

There’s no fur.

It’s… fabric. Against something warm—a body.

Yuuri’s eyes snap open.

There’s someone in the bed with him. Before his mind can latch onto any memories his eyes catch on silver hair.

His chest tightens and fear roils in Yuuri’s gut as a scream tears from his lips. Yuuri shoves Victor away untangling himself from him and Makka, hitting the floor and crawling backward as tears spring in his eyes. He’s going to die. He’s dead already. Victor’s here and Yuuri’s going to—

“Yuuri?” Victor sits up, his hair a mass of grey in Yuuri’s wobbling, blurred vision, and his voice just as soft if more gravely than last night.

 _Last night_.

Victor came to see Makka because he couldn’t sleep without her. They talked. Makka tackled Victor onto the bed and he’d fallen asleep, and Yuuri was going to move to another room, but…

But he didn’t. Makka was on him and he didn’t have the heart to move and he fell asleep.

Victor wasn’t trying to kill him. Yuuri had invited him in. It was okay. It was going to be okay.

Yuuri brings up his legs, putting his head between his knees as the tears drip from his eyes to leave dark spots on the carpet. Gods, what a way to wake up. It’s like his worst nightmare realized—and it would have been something that would’ve been more akin to a dream, had it happened more than fifty years ago. It’s fucked up. It’s all fucked up.

But it’ll be okay. If Victor was going to try and kill him, he’d had all night. Hell, he could have tried the moment Yuuri let him in. But he hadn’t. By some miracle, he doesn’t want Yuuri dead anymore. It’s impossible to believe past the fear right now, but the earnestness in Victor’s voice last night, the proof in his actions, it’s almost as if…

“Can I…” Victor clears his throat. “Can I do anything to help?”

Yuuri jerks up, finding Victor half-kneeled on the carpet only a few feet away, his hand reached out as if unsure if he should touch Yuuri.

“No.” Yuuri winces at the crack in his voice, and reaches up to wipe away the tears. “I… I just…” A shiver wracks through his body as the memory of fear echoes through him.

“What happened?” Victor’s voice lilts up as if he’s unsure he should even be asking the question. “Is everything all right?”

Yuuri laughs, a hysterical edge in his voice. “Is anything ever all right?” He takes a breath, hitching in his throat as he tries to fight back more tears. “I… I didn’t mean to fall asleep on the bed. And when I woke up, I saw you.”

Victor’s brow furrows for just a moment before his expression falls flat. His arm drops and he falls back, putting more room between them as his face becomes so pale Yuuri nearly begins worrying about it. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s my fault.” Yuuri looks up, willing his emotions to just calm down for once. “I should have made you leave, or move, or… something.”

“No, I shouldn’t have come in the first place. This is… this is somewhere safe for you, not meant for someone like me.”

Yuuri glances at Victor. “I let you in, though. I could have said no, you know how this mansion is warded. This is _my_ space.”

“I shouldn’t have asked.” Victor shakes his head. “You… you’re too kind. I shouldn’t have asked. I won’t do it again. I—” Victor’s voice cracks and he snaps his mouth shut, squeezing his eyes closed.

Yuuri gives a grim smile. Well, aren’t they just complete messes? He looks beyond Victor, to the mound of brown fur whining softly on the bed, growing a little larger as her distress grows with the two idiots on the floor.

“Makka,” Yuuri calls softly, motioning for her to come over.

She gives a soft _woof_ before leaping over, first shoving her face in Yuuri’s and then in Victor’s.

Even Victor can’t help but splutter out a laugh at her antics. “You never change, do you girl?”

“At least one of us is stable.” Yuuri reaches out to rub Makka’s ear as she turns around to check on him again. “Who would’ve thought it would be the dog?”

Victor doesn’t give a response, instead hugging Makka close as she goes back to him, burying his face in her fur.

Looking at Victor right then and there, it’s hard to believe that he’s ever been a threat to Yuuri. Of course Yuuri knows better, he won’t be forgetting these past few months no matter what happens. This morning is a solid enough reminder—he never wants to wake up like that again. His body is jittery and his mind is off-kilter and he’s not sure he’ll be able to settle for the rest of the day.

But… but the knowledge that Victor hasn’t done anything in all of the time he’s had Yuuri vulnerable around him is changing something. Yuuri’s not sure what, exactly. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forgive Victor, much less trust him. But despite that, despite the traces of adrenaline still rushing through his veins, Yuuri’s not afraid of him right now. Not all wrapped around Makka like she’s his only lifeline—hell, she’s been that for Victor before, after all.

Victor lifts his head a bit, still keeping his face bowed and expression out of sight. “I’m so sorry I’m like this.”

Yuuri frowns, trying to recall their conversation before this. “Like what?”

Victor snorts. “Like _me_. I’m supposed to be Spring. I’m supposed to be good and pure and full of life. I’m supposed to be light and happy and carefree, and I’m… this.”

Yuuri arches an eyebrow. Two can play at this game. “I shouldn’t be so worried when I’m Death. I shouldn’t be so weak, or emotional, or distracted. And yet, here I am. Somehow I keep doing my job, and others support me in doing it. We can’t all be perfect gods.” Yuuri breathes deeply. “Maybe none of us are.”

Victor’s silent for a long moment before he speaks, and there’s a weight behind his words when he says, “Yakov is.”

“Yakov may be the oldest god out there…” Maybe he is the exception to the rule, though. Does being alive that long give you infinite wisdom, time enough to destroy your own flaws? But it’s not like Yakov’s been perfect. He never caught wind of what Victor was up to. He even needed Yuuri’s help to save Victor this past time. No, he’s just as flawed as the rest of them. “But if he’s perfect, why did he let a pointless war stretch on for so long and let children, compared to him, end it? Why did he never do anything about your suffering? About everything that was happening to anything around him. Either he’s incredibly unobservant, or he’s too full of himself. Or maybe he’s just as tired and flawed as the rest of us. I don’t know. But what I _do_ know that is Spring is just a title. It’s not the person behind it.”

The silence stretches for a long moment after that, and Yuuri doesn’t push. The tense set to Victor’s shoulder drops, and Makka’s tail begins to thump against the ground as he begins petting her again.

With a sigh, Victor looks up properly. “I… I suppose you’re right.”

Yuuri shrugs. “It’s not about being right.”

“I know. Still, it’s…” Victor looks down at the floor, a small frown on his face. “I meant it when I offered before. I know you don’t believe me, but I’ll go back to the Overworld, and you won’t have to see me again.”

Yuuri bites back a sigh. “I already told you, that’s not what I want.”

Victor looks up, blinking at him. “No. That’s not what you said. You said you’d think about it.”

It’s Yuuri’s turn to go quiet, now. That was what he’d said, wasn’t it? And he’d meant it. But he means what he just said, now. If Victor goes back, he can’t have Makka. Yuuri doesn’t know if there’s someone like Minako up there, and even if there were, Victor would have to go into hiding and not have contact with the other gods. It’s almost as if Victor _wants_ to be punished for what he’s done. Gods know Yuuri has enough terribly boring paperwork to make the Underworld truly hell for Victor, if he wanted it.

But sending Victor back isn’t an option. And not in some self-sacrificing fools’ decision. Victor isn’t a threat right now. Yuuri won’t let his guard down, but there’s no reason for Victor to go to the Overworld and risk breaking the treaty.

“Well, I’ve thought about it.” Yuuri sits up a little straighter, folding his legs beneath himself. “And you’ll be staying unless you actually want to go back.”

“I… I don’t want to go back.” Victor frowns. “But I can’t make this right. I can’t fix what I’ve done to you and what you’ve given up for me. I owe you so much that I can never repay.”

Yuuri shrugs again. “Well, you have the rest of eternity to try. You _are_ my husband, after all.” A smile quirks Yuuri’s lips—not at the joke, but at the fact that for once that word isn’t a weapon, some kind of barb that they throw at one another. They aren’t what Yuuri’s parents were, they aren’t what most are, but it’s better than it was.

And Yuuri will take that.

“I… I suppose. I just…” Victor glances to the side, eyes flicking around the room as he thinks.

It hasn’t even been a year since Yuuri and Victor had spoken their first words since that last, cursed day during the winter, since they’ve been married. Yet somehow it feels longer than the fifty years before that. Is this how mortals feel when they don’t have an eternity to wander through? Or is it just that Yuuri’s life had been so dull before all this?

Don’t get him wrong, he wouldn’t choose to go through this again, not knowing what he knows. But maybe he can stand where it goes from here on out.

Victor stands up, the movement so sudden that Yuuri jolts and Makka whines.

“I can’t fix everything—hardly anything really—but I owe whatever I can give to you.” Victor holds out his hand, his eyes so, so blue even in the dim light of the sunrise. “Will you show me your garden?”

Yuuri flinches away. That garden was for a Victor that doesn’t exist anymore, for a dream that Yuuri’s buried and mourned. He’s not exactly in the mood to go and visit its grave. “Why?”

“I… I think it would be better if I showed you. But I understand if you don’t trust me, of course. That was ridiculous, in retrospect. I shouldn’t just expect you to show me something like that, I’m so sorry. I just had an idea and I said it, and I apologize, I—”

Victor is… he’s rambling? He’s _nervous_? Hell, just what exactly is he going to try in Yuuri’s garden?

And why does Yuuri desperately want to know?

Before Victor can talk himself completely out of it, Yuuri takes his hand, letting Victor pull him up with wide eyes.

“All right.” Yuuri tries to give a tentative smile. “We can go to my garden. Just… give me a moment to get dressed.”

“Oh! Yes, of course! I’ll just…” Victor motions to the door that leads to the room beyond, still open from last night, before striding out with Makka hot on his heels and shutting the door behind himself.

Yuuri can’t help but snort and stare at the door for a minute. This is absurd. Maybe Yuuri never really woke up after he saved Victor the second time and this is some strange fever dream. He pinches himself to make sure and—yep, still stings.

Shaking his head, Yuuri grabs some clothes and throws them on, trying to keep moving before logic and reason catch up to him. Because there are probably dozens of reasons why he shouldn’t do this. His garden is a weakness of Yuuri’s, a sore spot that Victor’s already jabbed his fingers deep into.

But Victor showed Yuuri something raw and honest this morning, so maybe Yuuri could give him this. Like… a test. To make sure the road goes both ways. After all, the worst Victor can do is destroy the garden, but it’s been dead in Yuuri’s mind for decades.

He exits his bedroom, making Victor jump up from where he’d perched on the edge of a seat. Makkachin leaps around Victor for a moment before bounding toward Yuuri, leaving the former to glance around the room—anywhere but straight at Yuuri.

Has Victor ever been this nervous before? Not in Yuuri’s memory, at least. If he ever was, Victor buried it beneath layers and layers of what he _wasn’t_ afraid to show. He’d said it himself, hadn’t he? He let himself be angry so he didn’t have to deal with anything else and now, well. He has to deal with it.

If anything comes of this, Yuuri just hopes Victor speaks to Minako.

“Well then, let’s… do this, I guess.” Yuuri takes a breath before he strides toward the door and pushes it open.

Makkachin runs out the door and down the hall, tongue lolling out as she looks back to make sure that they’re following. Well, at least someone’s excited about this.

Shaking his head, Yuuri strides down the hall, all too aware of Victor’s footsteps following as he comes out of Yuuri’s room—

Oh _gods_ Yuuri hopes that Phichit and Minako don’t catch wind of this. They’ll either strangle Yuuri, or Victor, or both, and he’d _never_ live it down.

He picks up the pace as his cheeks burn, not bothering to look back and make sure Victor’s following him—Yuuri can tell he is. Something about their connection is strange today, humming in the air around them. It’s an odd sensation, similar to the strange niggling in the back of his mind that Yuuri’s been feeling for a while now, ever since Minami’s hold on them all broke. He isn’t sure _what_ it is, though.

The slight breeze outside cuts straight through the thin layers Yuuri has on as he pushes out of a side door, the same one he used to make use of when he was little and would sneak outside. He shivers, but doesn’t stop moving toward the mass of green on this side of the mansion.

They wind through the pathways frozen in time, Makkachin leaping around after birds and through bushes, injuring the flora that won’t ever bloom again. Yuuri stops outside the unfinished maze, glancing around.

This is where Victor saw Makka again for the first time—that stick on the ground might even be the one she’d been playing with at the time.

Yuuri bends down to pick it up, throwing it into the maze. Makka takes off like a shot after it, disappearing into the half-grown foliage.

The quiet threatens to overcome them, so Victor turns toward Victor before it can. “Well, here it is. It wasn’t even that impressive back when I could maintain it—but I’m sure you could guess that much.”

Victor shakes his head. “I was impressed when I saw it the first time, even if I was disappointed at how you left it. I… I didn’t know.”

“And you wouldn’t have cared.”

“No, you’re right. I wouldn’t have.” He pauses, eyes searching as he weighs his words. “But I care _now_.”

“Sure.” Yuuri glances toward the maze, a few birds rising in the distance as Makka must be snuffling around. “But what are you going to do now that you didn’t do then? Take over for me?”

Yuuri stiffens as his words catch up with him. Would Victor? It was Yuuri’s dream to create with Victor, a helpless little hope that was stomped out of existence before it could really exist. The fact that Victor could only really work with the leftovers of the power that Yuuri once had stings, but his garden could _live_ again.

“No. It would be faster. But… no. Come here?”

Faster? Yuuri furrows his brow and finds Victor near a trellis. It’s the same one he’d been by that first time, the hybrid between lilac and wisteria. He hesitates just a moment before he walks over.

“May I have your hand?” Victor meets Yuuri’s gaze with such honest eyes that it steals Yuuri’s breath away.

“Sure,” Yuuri murmurs, letting Victor take his hand and bringing it to the forever closed blooms.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness, but just… trust me. Not forever, or for everything, but just with this.” Victor takes a shaking breath. “It would be faster if we were dancing of course, but I’m not sure we can move, if this works.”

“D-dancing?” Yuuri’s heartbeat begins to pick up its pace and he nearly draws his hand away, but he can’t seem to move.

Victor doesn’t answer, though; he just cradles Yuuri’s hand touching the vine with both of his, and closes his eyes.

For a moment nothing happens. Maybe whatever Victor has planned won’t work. It wouldn’t be surprising—it’s not like there’s much, if any, life left to work with here.

But then there’s something. A tickle down Yuuri’s arm, into his chest, something so familiar that it _aches_. It’s… it’s him. It’s his power—but not just his, Victor’s too. Whatever parts of Yuuri he’d sacrificed are still tied up in Victor’s own soul and he can feel their power together just like that one day in spring, years ago. And before his very eyes, in the middle of winter, the buds that had been stuck asleep and half-dead for decades shiver before turning a delicate green. They open and unfurl and present their intricate blossoms with a scent that’s light and fresh and floral in the air, just like Yuuri had imagined when he was young.

His knees begin to shake and his vision blurs. He only notices he’s falling as arms wrap around him, holding him upright.

“Yuuri? Yuuri, are you okay?” Victor’s voice is high, panicked.

Yuuri clings to him, digging his fingers into Victor’s shirt as a sob wracks through him, washing away any words he wishes he could say. This is everything. Absolutely everything he wanted, and after so long, he just… he…

“I’m so, so sorry. I just thought… you’d mentioned before… I’m _so_ sorry, Yuuri.” Victor says his name like a plea, as if he’s begging.

But he doesn’t need to beg, not to Yuuri.

“Thank you,” Yuuri finally manages to choke out, clinging to Victor tighter. “Thank you so much.”

So gently that Yuuri’s half-sure he’s imagining it, fingers begin to shakily run through Yuuri’s hair. It’s comforting and soft but it’s so much that it sends a whole new round of tears to Yuuri’s eyes.

“Of course.” Victor murmurs, holding Yuuri just as tight, as if they're each others’ life rafts in a storm of their own making. “I just wish it was more”

Yuuri shakes his head again. “It’s _everything_.”

Victor lets out a shaky breath. “Then it’s yours. I’m yours, for whenever you want.”

“Thank you.” Yuuri can’t express it enough. It fills him in a way he hasn’t been filled in so long, it soothes the cracked edges that make up what’s left of him.

“Of course, Yuuri.” Victor’s voice is low in his ear. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: What if I take one of my favorite tropes (bedsharing) and traumatize Yuuri with it.  
> Me @ Me: No, what are you doing???  
> Me: *already done did the thing*
> 
> Bet ya’ll never thought this story would get so soft. ;) Of course, we still do have a number of chapters to go... Oh, and if you're interested, I was able to post [my Okaeri fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18719071) this week which I wrote _before_ Resplendent, and used as a character study for what I wanted to do with Victor here. :D
> 
> Thank you all for continuing to read and support this weird little fic! I'm still shook there are so many people reading this angsty ride?!?! 
> 
> [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	32. XXXII

“So,” Phichit draws out the word, leaning in close over his lunch. “Rumor has it that you and Victor aren’t fencing anymore?”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow and shoves his mouth full of noodles so he can think about what to say. Not that there really is anything to say. Phichit has to know, there’s no way that he or his hamsters would miss it. He's mostly lucky that Phichit hasn't commented on Victor coming out of Yuuri’s room that one time. Victor hasn’t come again, and Yuuri doesn’t blame him after that morning. But he seems to be doing a little better, and when he’s not, he takes Makka with him. Yuuri himself misses Makka on those nights, but it’s something he’s okay with. Everything’s… quiet. Almost eerily so, but Yuuri will take it.

Except Yuuri’s quiet doesn’t seem to be enough for Phichit, who continues to eye Yuuri over the rim of his teacup.

“We aren’t fencing anymore, no.” Yuuri sips his own tea, trying to find words and grinning a little as he remembers Victor and Yuuko’s debate about how _adequate_ it was. They’ve spent the last week either in the garden, or when Yuuri’s too exhausted from dancing and Minami, just walking with Makka. It’s not something Victor demands from Yuuri, but it’s strangely… nice. Something’s changing, and the more time he spends with Victor, the more he sees that honest, heart-shaped smile he’d seen once before when they were younger and danced in spring. He almost doesn’t want to tell Phichit, keep whatever this is hidden and safe. Not that he really has a choice. “We just… He’s different, I think.”

“I’ll say. He’s more different than he was even before he came to the Underworld.” Phichit arches an eyebrow. “He's been going to Minako. I thought you'd like to know.”

Yuuri lets out a breath, his smile growing wider. It wasn’t something that he’d press Victor about, but he’d hoped… He tries to school his expression into something more neutral. “I told him to go.”

Phichit shakes his head. “I imagined as much. Like hell Minako would ever betray you.” He flinches the moment he realizes what he said, unspoken words hanging in the air.

_Unlike some people._

“I…” Yuuri clears his throat, meeting Phichit’s gaze. “It's good we're all moving forward.”

Phichit smiles softly, his eyes staying down for a moment. “Thanks.”

Yuuri shrugs. “Just the truth.

Phichit laughs. “Yeah, I guess. Always humble Yuuri. But speaking of moving forward... Don't you have a date with Victor?”

Yuuri splutters. “It's not a date.”

Phichit gentle grin turns shit-eating. “Ah, some things really never do change.”

Why does Yuuri consider this god a friend again? At least Yurio's easy to tease—Phichit's a force of nature. “Either way, I'm not seeing Victor until later. I'm off to teach Minami and then…”

“You'll go on your date.”

Yuuri stands up, glowering at Phichit. “It's not a date! It's not like that, not after… everything.”

“And if he tried to make a move, I'd kick his ass.” Phichit sips his tea, all humor leaving his eyes for a moment. “That man would have to bend heaven and hell to make what he's done up to you. In fact, he better.”

Yuuri hesitates, fingers fluttering as they itch for something to do. “Do you hate him?”

There's a moment where Phichit stares at the corner of the room, but eventually he shakes his head. “No. He's… not what you'd expect, not after everything. But I do hate what he's done. Like I said, he owes you a lot more than what you two are up to in that garden.”

“We aren’t up to _anything_ ,” Yuuri tries to insist, but the flush on his cheeks doesn’t help sell his case, if the way Phichit snickers is any indication. “Fine, be an ass. I’m going to go.”

“All right, all right.” Phichit wipes tears from his eyes, biting his lip against laughing. “See you tomorrow, Yuuri.”

Despite his shenanigans, Yuuri manages to give Phichit a smile before he leaves. It’s unsettling that Yuuri feels almost as comfortable in his own halls as he once had before. There’s a bit of worry itching just beneath his skin, there _always_ is, but he doesn’t worry about anyone trying to murder him, or follow him, or anything. Honestly, it’s probably the fact that he isn’t worrying about that worries the most.

Yuuri sighs. Maybe _he_ needs to go and talk to Minako.

“Hi, Yuuri!”

Yuuri jolts out of his thoughts as he leaves the mansion, turning to find Minami bounding toward him.

“Hi, Minami.” Yuuri smiles at the younger god, finding Minami’s excited gait to be too much like Makkachin’s not to be amusing. She’s with Victor right now, but Yuuri will have her back by the time he dances this evening.

“How did your walk with Victor and Makka go this morning?” Minami smiles as he falls into step next to Yuuri.

Yuuri scowls. They were in the gardens, not walking, but Yuuri isn't going to clarify that. “Does everyone know that we aren’t fencing?”

“Umm…” Minami looks off into the woods for a moment, thinking. “Yeah, I think so. I was going to say Chris doesn’t, but I’m pretty sure that he was teasing Victor about it the other day.”

“Teasing Victor… how?” Possibilities flit through Yuuri’s mind, and his face burns as he remembers what kind of god Chris is. “Never mind! Never mind.”

Minami laughs. “Chris isn’t that bad. I think you’d like him if you spent time with him.”

Yuuri rubs his forehead. “Can I just deal with one previously homicidal god at a time, please?”

Minami stares down at his feet, pausing in his movements as they reach the center of the lawn.

“I know it wasn’t really your fault.” Yuuri places a hand on Minami’s shoulder, but he refuses to look up.

“It was my power, and I should’ve tried harder to stop everything before it got as bad as it did,” Minami mutters, shifting on his feet.

“You and I both know that it was out of your control. It was out of Victor’s control, it was out of _everyone’s_ control, and without Otabek there wouldn’t have been an escape.” Yuuri takes a breath. “I don’t blame you. You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

Minami finally glances up. “Still, I’m sorry.”

“It's fine.” Yuuri gives Minami a playful shove, giving them more room for what they came here for. “Let's just dance. I could use it myself, today.”

Today’s dance isn’t about the dead, and it’s not even about Minami’s power—not directly, anyway. Yuuri leads Minami through slow and controlled movements, centering their minds, their power, and their bodies. It’s different, but Yuuri likes it. The slow grace chases away the itching worry, and helps him focus on the there and now. He actually discovered it after talking to Victor about his teaching woes, and he’d mentioned he’d heard of the technique, and even seen it in the library.

So now they spend every other day on this, and the days between focused on the dead and Minami’s own powers. Minami’s far from being a calm god, but even Yuuri can tell his soul’s more settled now. He can see it in how Minami smiles, and the light in his eyes. Even if the guilt still lingers—and really, Yuuri can’t judge him for that—he’s getting better. Slowly, but surely, they all are.

Eventually, Yuuri notices that Minami’s movements are becoming jerky, his breaths labored. Yuuri could keep going, but he knows for a fact that Minami will only stop when Yuuri does, so he calls it quits.

Minami bows slightly. “Thank you.”

Yuuri waves it off. “Like I said, I needed it, too.” And now he should probably see Minako about, well, everything, but his mind can’t help wandering to what Minami’s up to next. Will he go and see Phichit, or Chris, or even Victor? Everyone was distraught after what happened, and Yuuri can’t say he’s not surprised to see them all together again. “Minami? Do you… do you hate Victor? You said you were around him and Chris earlier, and I… was surprised.”

A slight flush spreads across Minami’s face, embarrassed like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “It's still awkward, but… I don’t. We were all kinda floating along until we had each other to hold onto all those years ago. Victor's actually nice behind all the anger he had. But I think you know that, now.”

Yuuri purses his lips. Victor… _nice_? But then again, he has been diligently helping Yuuri to bring his garden back to life. He cares about Makka like she’s his child, spoiling her even more than Yuuri does. He offers advice and help and…

Nice. Yeah. Victor is, in a strange and alien way, nice.

“I suppose I do.” Yuuri glances back toward the mansion, toward where the rest of the gods are hidden from the frigid air of late winter.

Minami grins. “Well, I’ll see you later! Thank you again, Yuuri!” And he scuttles off back toward the house before Yuri can get another word in.

Maybe that was a little awkward for Minami, but… oh well. Yuuri’s gone long enough without knowing what’s going on with his own gods, and he’s not doing that again.

He begins his own trek back into the house, into the warmth that seeps into his slightly chilled skin. It’s nice that he can get warm enough while dancing not to mind it so much, but it’s the sort of bitter cold that seeps into his bones the moment he stops moving.

At least by the time he makes it to Minako’s door, he’s stopped shivering.

“Ah, fancy meeting you here.” Minako leans against the doorframe after opening it, gesturing for Yuuri to walk it.

He hesitates for only a second, but it’s enough for Minako to catch, of course it is.

“So,” she says as she takes a seat opposite him. “What’s got you all anxious?”

“I’m not—” Yuuri huffs out a breath. Just because he isn’t as anxious as usual doesn’t mean he’s not anxious. “I don’t know. It could just be nothing.”

Minako hums. “It could be. That’s fine. Then what’s on your mind?”

Yuuri fiddles with his fingers. Maybe he really didn’t have a good enough excuse to visit Minako. “I… I hear Victor is coming to you, now?”

She raises an eyebrow. “He is. But I’m not going to tell you about it unless you’re at risk, you know that.”

“Oh, I know!” Yuuri raises his hands. “I’m the one who said he should come—though you know that.” He’d mentioned offering this to Minako, he wasn’t about to send Victor over here without warning her. “I just… that’s good. I hope he’s…” What does he hope for Victor?

“Yuuri, I know you can’t help but care…” She leans forward a little, clasping her hands. “But are you prepared for this all to backfire?”

He blinks. “What?”

“He could hurt you again. Somewhere you have to know this. Are you prepared for that?” Her eyes bore into Yuuri, reminding Yuuri that she’s not just his confidant, but also his most trusted advisor for a reason.

Yuuri gulps. “I… He wouldn’t…” But he had before. Victor was almost Yuuri’s friend until he was his worst enemy, and nothing Yuuri tried had changed it—not until the very end. It would be safer to sever this tentative connection to Victor. He wouldn’t have to go to the Overworld, but he didn’t have to so much as interact with Yuuri. Victor has friends with him, he has access to the entire mansion, he would want for absolutely nothing. He doesn’t need Yuuri, and Yuuri doesn’t need him.

That isn’t what Yuuri wants, though.

Something is blooming and growing between them in this frigid winter, beyond the flowers of Yuuri’s garden. And Yuuri’s both terrified and excited about what that might be.

“Do you think he will?” Yuuri glances down at his hands, afraid of what expression that Minako might wear.

“I told you, if I thought he was a threat, I would tell you instantly.” Minako finally leans back. “I wouldn’t let him, so far as I can within my power.”

Yuuri scowls. That’s not really an answer—even though in some ways, it is. They’d be having a very different conversation if Minako thought Yuuri was in any danger from Victor right then and there. But things can change. Things will change, it’s inevitable when gods are creatures that live for so long.

There are a lot of circumstances surrounding Victor’s actions before. Not that he can forgive him entirely when he played such a huge role in it himself, but it feels now as if everything is almost… settled. Victor has a lot of work to do with himself, and Yuuri’s a constant work in progress, but there’s nothing that Yuuri can see setting off Victor like that again. They’re sure to disagree on things. They’re still, technically, married, and will be living in the same home for some time.

It’s a risk, but Yuuri wants to take it.

“He might betray me again,” Yuuri admits. “And I might not ever forgive him fully. It’s a deep wound, and I don’t know how he can ever fully erase it, but…”

Minako shakes her head. “But you’re a sucker.”

Yuuri scowls. “Hey!”

“Oh, just let me tease you, kiddo.” She smiles. “I know what he’s meant to you, and how much he made you grow—even if he took all of that back over the past few months.”

Yuuri hesitates, but then nods. “Yeah, I just… I want to try. Whatever this is.”

Minako nods, her grin turning somber. “I understand that, and though it would be smartest to advise against it, I know you too well, Yuuri. If we can count on anything, it’s your stubbornness.”

Yuuri snorts. “I’m happy to be so predictable for you all.”

She shakes her head. “Not predictable, not in the least. Believe me, it’d be easier if you were.” She sighs, pointedly ignoring the question in Yuuri’s cocked eyebrow. “But I do have to ask: are you happy?”

Happy. Another word he wouldn’t apply to what he knows, not actively. But it doesn’t feel wrong as he rolls it over in his head. “Yeah. I think I am? And, honestly, it’s almost like Victor is, well, um. Trying to make me happy?” He flushes, even as the words ring true. He _never_ thought he’d get his garden back. He never thought he’d have the chance to have Victor as a friend. But it’s so satisfying in a way that Yuuri couldn’t have put a name too before this moment.

“Really?” It’s Minako’s turn to arch an eyebrow, smirking at Yuuri even as he squirms. “Maybe that’s something you should ask him.”

“What?”

“If he’s trying to make you happy.”

Yuuri’s flush grows hotter on his cheeks. “Why would I ask him _that_?”

Minako shrugs. “You still have questions, obviously. You’re not going to get anywhere with anyone without communication. You’ve talked with him, just like with Minami and Phichit. But unlike them, he hurt you the most when you least expected it. Not that they _didn’t_ of course, but…”

“But it was different.” Very different. It was confusing, but it had always seemed like Victor was behind their actions, a puppeteer. Which is sort of true, save he was a puppet, too.

Would asking Victor help with anything? He still questions, of course he does. And Victor could lie, easily. Though now, without all of that angry, it’s much easier to see when Victor’s lying or hiding something. It hasn’t happened often, besides emotions he doesn’t want to talk about, but…

But it would be nice to have that assurance that Victor’s intentions are good in all of this. Like Minako said, they’re not going to move forward if they don’t talk.

Yuuri sighs. “Yeah. You’re right. I’ll ask him.”

Minako smiles softly. “You’ve got this kiddo. I’d tell you not to worry so much, but I know how it is.”

Yuuri snorts. She’s right. But, well. It’s nice to know one of them believe in him that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be a bit shorter and more all over the place than usual? But I promise to make it up to you next week. ;) And if you want something, um... spicier and haven't checked it out, [I have an alternate version of chapter 25 where Yuuri requests something _much_ different for winning his match.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18466441/chapters/43750690)
> 
> Also!!!! Check out this absolutely gorgeous art from that final scene in the last chapter on [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/post/184894835083/betterthan2nothing-im-not-100-satisfied-but-if) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Betterthannoth3/status/1128656644160749568?s=09) by Simgrim! I have emotions every time I unlock my phone and see it, ngl. *wheezes* 
> 
> Thank you all so much for continuing to read, and especially everyone who takes the time to comment!!!! I can't believe we have so few chapters left, holy cow????
> 
> [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	33. XXXIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Super spoilery TW, so skip if the tags aren't a worry for you!:**   
>  _That temporary character death tag rears its head again. It's once again brief, but if you have any concerns/need more deets, please feel free to leave a comment!_

“Do you enjoy it, then?”

Yuuri blinks at Victor, trying to track their conversation and failing horribly. They’d just had some hot chocolate inside, and Victor had waited while Yuuri changed into his robes for the sunset dance—but Yuuri's mind is still trapped inside, in the easy comfort of conversation and the warm drinks in their hands. “What?”

“Dancing to the dead?” Victor has a finger on his lip, head cocked as they walk across the grounds, the evening light casting everything in a sepia tone. He looks so… _soft_ like this.

“I mean, I used to, when I was younger, but not really anymore. Why?” They’ve talked about Yuuri’s dancing, vaguely. How could they not as they make slow progress on the garden? But Victor’s never taken an interest in it before. Or, well, he’s watched Yuuri dance, but not for the sake of the dancing.

Victor shrugs, glancing away. “It seems fascinating, but I know you don’t like other people watching, so I was curious. You don’t have to answer, of course.”

Yuuri frowns. “Why, do you want to watch?”

A slight flush spreads across Victor’s face, his hand dropping.”I do, but I won’t ask you for that. I… I have already seen you dance for the dead, even if I wasn’t paying attention to the dancing, really.”

“Then why were you watching?” Yuuri’s brain tosses around this new information, trying to grasp at why Victor’s asking. He watched Yuuri for weaknesses, right? Then what does he mean now?

“Honestly, I couldn’t bring myself to watch.” Victor looks down at the grass beneath their feet. “It felt like too… much. I know that doesn’t make anything better. And I never expect you to let me watch again I just…”

“Just what?” Yuuri pauses, and Victor stops, turning toward him.

Victor shrugs again. “I just want to know more about you, Yuuri. I’m tired of only knowing you as a concept in my mind, and I like the real version of you much better.”

It’s Yuuri’s turn to blush now, and he’s sure it’s not the same beautiful, delicate pink that Victor has. No, his cheeks burn as Victor’s words sink in, and what Minako suggested he ask rises to the forefront.

Despite agreeing to talk to Victor, another week’s passed since then, and Yuuri’s been paying more attention than ever. Victor may like his questions and staying close to Yuuri’s side, but he doesn’t push past Yuuri’s limits. He reaches out a hand and waits to see if Yuuri will take it, then backs off if Yuuri refuses.

There’s still doubt lingering in Yuuri’s mind, but the more time passes, the easier it is to spend time with Victor. The easier it is to hope that he actually cares.

Yuuri sighs. Why couldn’t he have had this with Victor _before_ everything that happened?

“What?” Victor gently bumps his shoulder against Yuuri’s, smiling slightly.

“Do you want me to be happy?” Yuuri blurts, then blushes even harder. “I mean! You just… you do a lot for me and seem to care and I just… wanted to ask. I guess.”

For a moment, Victor just stares, eyes wide. Then he reaches out, gently taking Yuuri’s hand.

And Yuuri, with hardly a thought, weaves their fingers together and holds on tight to anchor himself.

“I never thought you could get flustered, you know that?”

Yuuri scowls; that’s not an answer. “I’ve always been like this.”

Victor shakes his head. “No matter how you felt, you always looked so calm and vicious on the outside when you talked to me, when I first came down here. It was impressive, really. It made me scared that I wouldn’t be able to do what I came here to do, and I’m glad that fear was right. And I’m glad that, somehow, enough has changed that I can see this other side of you. I don’t expect you to trust me or forgive me, but I appreciate the time that we have together. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, even if… Well, I want to do what I can in return. Like I said, I expect nothing. If you said right here and now you never wanted to see me again, I would walk away.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, protests fighting to get out, but Victor raises his free hand.

“I can’t do much, not like what you’ve done for me. But if I can make you happy? I absolutely will.” Victor’s eyes burn in a way that Yuuri would have thought impossible with such a cool blue, but it sears him all the same.

There were none of Victor’s tells in that. And over the connection that they share, through their tied strings of fate, something rings and shakes through Yuuri with a warmth and a lightness that he hasn’t ever felt before. He can’t help the small smile that spreads across his face, finding it echoed on Victor’s.

This is ridiculous. Yuuri knows better.

But maybe he’s tired of knowing better. Maybe he’s tired of second-guessing himself and not taking what he wants and running with it.

“You can watch me dance if you want to.” Yuuri tugs Victor’s hand a little, pulling him toward the pools. They’re close enough as it is, not enough of a walk for Yuuri to second-guess himself and start thinking again.

“W-what?” Victor refuses to move, pulling backward. “But… I’ve already watched enough without your permission and now—”

“And now you have my permission.” Yuuri cocks an eyebrow. “If you really don’t want to watch, you can just say so.”

“No! No, that isn’t…” He takes a breath. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.” Yuuri meets his gaze head-on, daring Victor to question him again.

“Oh.” Victor stares back for a moment, eyes moving infinitesimally as he takes in Yuuri’s face. “All right, then.”

Yuuri grins, tugging Victor’s hand again to find him following easily this time, crossing the rest of the yard over to where the steam of the pools floods the cool air. This is so ridiculous, and stupid, and… What’s the worst that Victor can do while Yuuri dances? The dead will protect him, and besides, Yuuri would love to hear his perspective as a god that does a wildly different dance for his own power.

It has absolutely nothing to do with the nervous warmth spreading from his chest into his limbs, not at all.

Yuuri finally drops Victor’s hand as they approach the edge of the cliff, turning back to face him. “Don’t take your eyes off me.”

Victor nods, eyes never wavering.

Yuuri turns back around with a satisfied grin, striding up to path he's danced along since he was little. He pauses a moment, taking a settling breath. It's just like with Minami and Yurio, it's not different.

Except that it is. It's infinitely different. And Yuuri could back out now, Victor would let him. He's given Victor so much, Yuuri owes him nothing else.

But stopping isn't what he wants. Victor's let Yuuri funnel and shape his powers, and now Yuuri will show him how Death works.

He begins to move. The dead almost leap up as Yuuri draws them forward with careful movements, slowing as he tries to figure out what's different.

Victor. Yuuri might be able to dance to the dead still, but Victor has so much of Yuuri's power in him that of course he has some effect on the dead. He was always so far away but now with him so close…

Yuuri speeds up, snapping his arms and leaping through the air, the rush of the spirits and the water filling his ears with a song that has no beat. His emotions flow with the dead's dragging through the depths of frustration and grief until he can grasp that warm spot of hope with his movements. He drags it forward in smooth movements, weaving and embedding it into the souls that crave peace, need it fed to them to move on. There's so many that have been drawn out with Victor there, glimmering in the air as Yuuri sends them forward to the great unknown.

It’s like an eternity and yet no time at all before Yuuri drops his arms and sends the water cascading back down into the pools, taking a deep breath to fill his empty lungs.

Silence rings in the air, the pools completely still after that dance. Slowly, Yuuri turns around.

Victor stands a few feet away, gaping and eyes wide as he stares at Yuuri.

Yuuri clears his throat. “So, uh. That's what it's like.”

Victor takes a few steps closer, closing the distance between them but hesitating inches away. “I… wow. Yuuri, that was absolutely amazing. You’re breathtaking. You… Yuuri…”

A part of Yuuri preens at the praise, though he squashes it back down because… because why? He shouldn’t enjoy it? Minako said to embrace his feelings for what they are, so what if he did? What if he didn’t feel guilty over every little thing. What if he admitted to himself that he liked this praise more than normal because it was Victor giving it? What if Yuuri admitted that he liked Victor?

Yuuri looks up and searches Victor’s face, the earnest way his eyes shine and the adorable heart-shaped smile that he can’t seem to hold back. Yes, he does like Victor. And it’s terrifying and it shakes him to his core, but he wants… he _wants_ …

Before Victor can get another word out, Yuuri grabs his shirt and tugs him forward. It’s light enough that Victor could easily fight it, could pull back if he didn’t want it, but when Yuuri stands up on his toes and presses their lips against each other, Victor doesn’t pull away. He winds his arms around Yuuri’s neck, pressing them closer together and _oh_ Yuuri’s heart pounds as he melts against Victor, sighing against his lips. The warmth in him grows, it burns where they touch, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

But Victor’s the first to pull away, far too soon, resting his forehead against Yuuri, struggling and losing a battle against the smile spreading across his face. “Yuuri, are you sure about this?”

Yuuri cocks an eyebrow, but he doesn’t bother to hide his grin either. “Are _you_ sure? I mean… I didn’t mean to just… If you don’t want to…?”

“I do.” Victor’s quick to interrupt. “I think we should talk about this, but I do want this. But after everything, you’re still sure?”

Yuuri looks into Victor’s eyes, closer than he’s ever seen them before. Even in the dying light the evening, the blue of Victor’s irises are striking. It’s the one part of him that Yuuri had remembered most distinctly throughout everything, all the years and all their encounters. The color holds a lot of weight with Yuuri, now. So many memories, both awful and fond.

Victor’s right, they have a lot they need to talk about, and they still have things to work through. Yuuri can’t help but think back to what Phichit had said last week, that Victor would have to move heaven and hell to make everything up to Yuuri. Victor can’t do that, yet he’s _trying,_ and Yuuri wants this. He’s wanted a lot of things he could never have, he’s stopped himself from reaching out and holding onto the things that he wants, and he’s tired of it. He wants to take hold of this tentative thing that he’s bringing into bloom with Victor and fight for it.

Yuuri smiles at Victor, moving his hands from Victor’s chest to his cheeks. “I—”

“What the _fuck_?”

Yuuri pulls away as Victor jumps around, both of them moving to face the young god staring at them.

“Yurio?” Yuuri steps next to Victor, fingers twitching as he resists the urge to grab Victor’s hand—probably not the best thing to do with Yurio right there. He’s missed a lot, and seen too much without knowing. Yuuri feels pretty safe in saying that they’ve already had too many tragedies because of half-communicated truths. “You’re back? Does that mean your grandfather—?”

“He’s fucking fine, no thanks to you,” Yurio snarls.

Yuuri flinches, taking a step back—

Only to have Victor press his hand firmly on Yuuri’s back, stopping him from tripping back into the pools of the dead. A flush rises to Yuuri’s cheek. Holy hell, he _knows_ better than to not pay attention to the pools. But Yurio…

“That’s not fair.” Victor frowns, eyes narrowing at Yurio. “You know he can’t go to the Overworld.”

“Yeah, and who’s fucking fault is that?” Yurio clenches his hands into fists, stepping closer. “Actually, you know what? It _is_ his fault. He didn’t have to save your fucking pathetic life— _twice_ —even when you were trying to kill him and wreck the entire peace treaty and everything that idiot’s worked for.”

“But… he was fine?” Yuuri murmurs. “Your grandfather was fine? And you had Otabek with you, right?”

“Yeah, well, excuse me for wanting someone I’ve been friends with for half a fucking century longer there for me instead of… instead of…” The wind begins to rustle the leaves of the trees.

Honestly, it’s a testament to how far Yurio’s come that there isn’t a hurricane brewing—but the lack of control is still so, so obvious.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri murmurs, eyes flitting down.

Maybe… Maybe he really is wrong about this. This could be him just being selfish again. He could be making another terrible mistake, putting others at risk—putting all the gods and mortals on the line for a selfish little want. He wants to be happy. He wants Victor to be happy. But at what cost? What is he missing in the equation this time?

Victor’s hand against his back is suddenly a brand, and Yuuri doesn’t know if he wants to step away or curl into the fire of Victor’s side. Can’t he just have something nice? Something _his_?

“I…” Yuuri swallows mouth suddenly dry. What can he say? What can he do without messing the whole thing up _again_? He can’t see the far-reaching effects of his actions, and if they ruin his friendship with Yurio… can Yuuri live with that?

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Victor moves his hand just slightly, as if reminding Yuuri that he’s there. Like he could forget “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Or sure, like _you’re_ one to talk!” A slight breeze whistles through the branches again. “Do you understand what you’ve done to him? To _all_ of us? You didn’t have to see it, locked away in your little room with all your little minions captured under your fucking spell, but _I did_. And you thought you were hiding shit, Katsudon, but you _weren’t_.” Yurio’s voice cracks on the last work, and Yuuri’s heart breaks right along with it.

“Yurio, I…”

“No!” Yurio angrily wipes at his eyes. “Don’t you dare use that tone! We _saw_ you suffer. You lost weight, you didn’t sleep, you couldn’t even fucking dance to the dead for a while, and I know that’s the one point of pride you have to cling to, even if the rest of us know you’re better than that. This bastard doesn’t get to manipulate you into thinking he _cares_ , he’s never cared. He never _will_.”

Yurio jabs a finger toward Victor’s. “I fucking loved you when I was a kid. Shows the shit taste I had, but I did. And you know what you did? You fucking ignored me. Because Spring is just too good for everybody other than his fucking mortal dog. That Yuuri _rescued_ , destroyed his fucking life for, but do you care? No.”

“I care.” Victor’s voice is so silent against the roar of Yurio’s voice.

“Don’t you _lie_!” Tears stream down Yurio’s face and the wind howl’s around them. “You didn’t give a single shit!”

“I didn’t.” Victor meets Yurio’s glare head-on, his lips pressed together for a moment. “I really didn’t care about anything. It was hard enough caring about Makka. And then I cared in the wrong way, for the wrong reasons. I don’t expect forgiveness, what’s done is done and I can’t take it back. But I… I’m trying. And I’m going to keep trying.”

“And you think that’s _enough_ for all of us?” Yurio snarls.

“It is.” Yuuri grasps at what words he can, trying to pull himself up from the pit of fear and anxiety, the claws of their influence tearing at him as he climbs. “It is for me.”

“What the _fuck_ has he done to you this time?” Yurio turns his attentions to Yuuri, brow furrowing. “Did he get Minami to do it again? I thought… I thought at least _he_ was good, but I guess you can’t count on anyone down here—”

“It isn’t Minami.” Yuuri snaps. “It isn’t anything other than my choice.”

“It’s your choice to shove your tongue down the throat of your _murderer_?” Yuuri laughs, short and clipped. “Bullshit.”

“It is _my_ choice.” Yuuri stands up a little straighter. He can’t demand respect from Yurio when he isn’t Yuuri’s god—he wouldn’t, even if he could. But even if his choices are questionable, in this he’ll stand by what he’s done. “I made it.”

“No!” Yurio turns back to Victor. “You’ve got him duped, but you won’t ever get _me_ under your shitty little spell, not while Otabek’s on my side. What do you have to say to that? What are your grand plans this time, shitbag?”

“I don’t have any plans.” Victor chances a quick glance at Yuuri, but barely enough for Yuuri to see what he’s hiding beneath his mask of indifference.

“Then what the hell do _you_ want with _him_?” Yurio’s wind is enough to toss Victor’s bangs, making Yuuri question if he needs to end this, somehow—they probably won’t work anything out here and now. Maybe never, but it’ll be more likely with time.

But Yuuri has an unobstructed view of Victor’s face now, the way that his eyes shine, and the gentle smile that spreads across his face.

“Anything he’s willing to give me.” Victor shrugs, wrapping his hand around Yuuri’s waist like he can’t resist any longer. “I love him.”

Everything goes completely still. The wind dies as Yurio’s shoulders drop and Yuuri… Yuuri’s…

“V-Victor?” He can’t love Yuuri. He’s hated him for too long. Or… has he? The hate might have been there, but when Victor came back after Yuuri had saved him the second time, he was different. He didn’t try to kill Yuuri, not really. And even before that, he never lied, and he respected the demands that Yuuri made. It was still awful, and Yuuri’s still working on forgiving him for everything, but… but Yuuri’s heart races, and the flush across his cheeks only deepens. He’s fallen in and out of love with the concept of Victor for so long, he isn’t sure what he feels, but…

“I… I know it’s sudden. I know I shouldn’t have said it. And I know things are confusing, and we need to talk, but…” Victor gives Yuuri a hesitant smile.

And Yuuri returns it. “That…”

“ _No_.” Wind rips through the air, the trees creaking as Yurio clenches his fists. “You don’t _get_ to love him.”

Victor holds tighter to Yuuri. “Yuri, I—”

“You don’t _get_ to talk, you bastard!” As Yurio’s voice rises, so does the wind, both Yuuri and Victor having to brace even harder against it.

“ _Please,_ Yurio _—_ “ Yuuri nearly falls over as Victor stumbles back, barely managing to catch the both of them and keep upright.

“Both of you just _shut up_!” Yurio snarls, eyes wide and wild as another gust rips through the air.

The trees begin to snap, branches breaking as the wind howls. Small waves crash against the shore of the pool, the dead remaining murmuring at the unrest, drawing Yuuri’s attention for a moment. 

Too long a moment.

As Yuuri looks up he notices the branches are headed toward a target: Victor. A target that’s too distracted by Yurio to notice that they’re coming for him, and if they knock him over, back into the pools? Victor would die. No god could go after him and into those pools, and his cause of death is _drowning_ in the first place.

They’re too close for Yuuri to beg Yurio to stop, to say something, to prevent anything. So he does the only thing he can—he pushes Victor aside, and the branches come straight for him.

Maybe someone can manage to pull him out of the grasp of the dead. Maybe the dead will react differently to him, since he’s Death.It could all be fine, this didn’t have—

One of the branches spears Yuuri through the chest.

For a moment he doesn’t feel anything. Maybe it missed its mark. It might be fine. Then he tries to breathe and the pain screams through his body, sharp shoots of it rattling his entire being as his spirit begins to unwind and unravel from his physical body.

Distantly he’s aware of Yurio’s gaping, that he probably feels bad for the pain he’s caused Yuuri, but he can’t focus enough on him to think about it.

But the horror that bleeds across Victor’s face speaks enough. Just like Yuuri knew when Victor’s life was slipping away, Victor can feel the same for him.

And more acutely now that their bond is stronger than ever, no doubt.

Because that branch pierced Yuuri’s heart, and there’s no way to heal from a mortal wound. He’s going to die.

Yurio’s going to be so angry when he figures it out. They all are. Fencing was the most ridiculous choice he could have made, he knows that now. But he survived, didn’t he?

At least… until now.

If he could, Yuuri would probably laugh.

Victor reaches out toward him, but it’s all too slow. They’re both too slow to stop the next branch from hitting him in the shoulder, knocking him back into the pools.

If there was even some remote possibility that someone could save Yuuri like he had Victor, it’s gone the moment the pool splashes around him. There will be no time to figure out how to get him out before his soul belongs to the pools. The dead’s fingertips slide along his robes, losing their grip like they’re supposed to, but that doesn’t stop them from digging into his skin and yanking at his hair.

His vision sways, goes dim as his glasses drift away and everything blurs out of focus. He can’t say goodbye to Mari, or to his parents. Everyone inside will have no idea what happened until it’s long past too late. He just… He just hopes that Victor doesn’t take the blame. Yuuri gave up so much of what was precious to him to make sure Victor lived. At least… at least there’s Makka, even if Yuuri can’t take care of him.

Everything stills. The dead, the unraveling inside of him, the blood in his veins. How ironic that he was finally able to give his heart to Victor, only to have it shattered by someone else.

The darkness consumes Yuuri.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone, please welcome to the pools of the dead a Mister Katsuki “I die by getting stabbed through the heart, let’s challenge the man who wants me dead to HIGHLY DANGEROUS FENCING MATCHES WITH POINTY METAL STICKS PERFECT FOR STABBING” Yuuri. Or rather Mister Katsuki “Oh my method of dying is so obvious and dumb, if they don’t get it right away I guess I’m safe” Yuuri. Or maybe Mister Katsuki “I’m anxious about literally everything _except what I should be most anxious about_ ” Yuuri.
> 
> Thought that temporary character death tag had already come and gone, hmmmm?
> 
> ;)
> 
> Anyway, please don't murder me? Thank you so much for reading??? If I'm dead there are no more chapters coming????
> 
> ETA: HECK I FORGOT TO LINK [THIS FABULOUS ART OF VICTOR](https://twitter.com/hot_katsudon/status/1130917736027217920?s=20), AND [THIS HILARIOUS VIDEO](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts/status/1130188285949693952), PLS CHECK THEM OUT AND SHOWER THEM WITH LOVE!!!!
> 
> [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	34. XXXIV

Yuuri wakes up.

For a moment all he can think about is how sore he is, but not in the same way as when he saved Victor from his almost-coma. He’s sore as if he’s been dancing constantly for days, not in the burning, dying kind of way it was before. What was he _doing_ —?

He… He shouldn’t have woken up.

He shouldn’t be alive.

His eyes snap open, and he pushes up from the soft bed—

But his head immediately begins to spin, ears ringing. Dots of white litter his vision before he can so much as focus on anything. Though his arms begin to shake, he forces himself to stay, to push through it. At least this can’t be the afterlife—or it _shouldn’t_ be. He’s dealt enough with the particulars of his physical form, getting rid of that should be his one reward for making it so far in life as to reach death.

Though, compared to most gods, Yuuri didn’t stay alive for very long at all.

There’s pressure against Yuuri’s chest, pushing him back down to the mattress so easily that it’s pathetic.

“Easy there.” A familiar voice cuts through the ringing of his ears.

“Mari.” Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut, letting his head have a moment to recover. It’s quiet as he steadies his breath, and the noise in his ears begins to fade, and a wave of exhaustion adds weight to his limbs. He manages a grin, though. “We need to stop having family reunions like this.”

There’s a snort. “Well _someone_ needs to stop doing dumb as hell stunts, and then maybe I’ll stop having to leave all the Reapers to fend for themselves constantly.”

“Mari! He just woke up, wait a while before that.”

Yuuri’s eyes flutter open again, and he squints as he tries to focus on the short figure next to Mari. “M-Mom? What are you doing here?”

It’s hard to make out without his glasses, but Yuuri’s pretty sure he sees his mom raise an eyebrow. “Well, when you get word your son has died, I imagine most parents’ reactions would be to come home.”

“I…” Yuuri died. He definitely died. It wasn’t a dream, then.

There’s whining at his side, and Yuuri looks over to find Makka placing her head on his chest.

With a soft laugh, he reaches out and runs his fingers through Makka’s curly fur, scratching at her patches of scales as he tries to remember. He and Victor, they’d… well, Yuuri had kissed Victor. And then Yurio had come back, probably going out to the pools to check on Yuuri, and he’d gotten angry and then…

Yuuri pushes the blankets aside grabbing the edge of his shirt and yanking it up. There’s scar tissue, gnarled and dark, over where his heart _should_ be. His heartbeat pounds loud enough that he can hear it in his ears, and when he presses the palm against the healed skin, he can feel the steady thumping of the organ that has to be there.

But he _died_. No one’s ever revived a god before—save for himself. And it’s not as if he can rescue himself after his own heart’s stopped and his life-force has left him. His soul should be floating in the pools or have moved on by now, not…not whatever’s gone on.

“What happened?” Yuuri barely whispers, his eyes firmly stuck onto the scarring. He’s a god, there shouldn’t be scar tissue.

“We were hoping you could tell us that.” His mom sighs. “From what we understand, you were with Victor before you danced, and you never came in. You were missing for days before Yurio showed up at the door, carrying your unconscious body. He passed you off to Phichit and left again. So far as we know, you’re perfectly healthy, but…”

Yuuri glances up to find the both of them staring at his chest. Mari must know his mortal weakness too now, then. Yuuri couldn’t have survived what happened.

But he did.

“Was it Victor?” Mari snarls, her hands curling into fists. “Because if it was, I’ll fucking kill him”

Yuuri almost expects his mom to scold Mari for language, but then he remembers that their mom was the Death that spent most of her life fighting a war that was never hers to begin with. If anyone was capable of disposing of Victor underneath Yuuri’s nose…

“No!” Yuuri drops his shirt and waves his hands “No, it wasn’t him. He tried to…” He’d reached out for Yuuri, eyes wide and desperate and very much so aware of Yuuri’s life slipping away. “Where is he?”

“We’re not sure.” His mom frowns. “We can’t get a hold of Yakov.”

“But Yurio should know.” Yuuri scowls. Yurio was right there when everything happened, he wouldn’t let Victor try to rescue Yuuri alone.

“Yurio’s vanished, too,” Mari snaps. “All of the Overworld gods are gone, and neither Phichit or Minami seem to have a damn clue. They’re… different from last time I was here.”

Yuuri laughs softly, petting Makka as she huffs against him. “Yeah. It’s a long story, but having Otabek around proved to be a good move. It’s just… it was more complicated than we thought, at first.”

“You know you’re not going to get away with just that.” His mom puts her hands on her hips. “You left your father and me in the dark for _months_ while you struggled here. Once you’ve recovered, you’re going to tell us every single detail that you can about what’s gone on and we’ll decide what to do from there.”

“We don’t need to do anything—“ Yuuri’s mouth snaps closed at his mom’s look. “Yes. Of course, Mom.”

She smiles sweetly. “Good. Now, how do you feel?”

Yuuri pauses, making Makka whine a little. If he’s being honest, he’s felt worse. Much worse. It really does feel like he’s danced too much, pushed himself too far, but not to the point of breaking. Not like how it is when Yuuri’s saved Victor. In fact, it’s almost as if he feels _better_. There’s a low energy thrumming in his veins, foreign yet familiar, and not unpleasant in the least. There’s no need to bring out his cane again—if his head stays settled, he could probably limp around just fine right now.

“I’m… good. Really, I’m good.” Yuuri meets Mari’s incredulous glare. “I feel sore, but it’s not like the pain from… the previous times. I don’t know how, though.” His soul is broken, he _died_ , and no one knows how he’s here—himself least of all.

He sighs. He thought they were done with all these ridiculous secrets and puzzles. “How long have I been out?”

“Only a couple of weeks, I think.” Mari shrugs. “Not bad, for you.”

Yuuri snorts, placating Makka as she whines against him. That meant it was only a couple of weeks, at the very most, before Victor danced spring in. That could be why he’s gone, but Yuuri knows better. If Victor wanted to come back, he could have. He could probably leave within a week of when he decided to start spring. With all the reading Yuuri’s done about gods and how they operate, he has complete confidence in his knowledge.

Unless Victor was the one…

No. That isn’t possible.

Yuuri was in the pools of the dead. Victor would die if he tried to rescue Yuuri.

“Your father and I wouldn’t have minded if you had asked us for help earlier, you know.” His mom reaches out and takes Yuuri’s hand. “We would have wanted you to.”

Yuuri blinks back the sting of tears, trying not to grip Makka too tight. “I-I’m Death. I shouldn’t be bothering you with ridiculous things I should be able to handle on my own.”

Mari clucks her tongue. “Nobody can do everything on their own. It would be nice if we could, don’t get me wrong, but even I couldn’t run the Reapers without the help of others.”

“Why do you think both your father and I were Death, Yuuri? I could have married him and let him continue being what he was before, but he offered, and I needed the help, and so there were two Deaths. And tell me Yuuri, in all of your lessons, how often was Death alone? Even if there wasn’t another god at their side, when do they not take on apprentices and disciples, at least?” She sighs. “At this rate, I’m surprised you haven’t tried to take over Reaping from Mari.”

Mari snorts. “Don’t put that idea in his head, Mom.”

“Don’t I know it.” His mom rolls his eyes. “I should have checked in on you long ago, I hadn’t realized how long your father and I had been gone…”

Yuuri flushes a deep red. “No, Mom! You earned that vacation, I just…” Now that she mentions it, she’s right. Death rarely works alone. Even Yakov, Life himself, has a court full of people in the limited times Yuuri’s seen it. He’s supposed to be some prodigy, he was born to be Death long before he had a say in it. Accepting the help of anyone around him has always made him feel like he _wasn’t_ that god, that he could never be that god. But his anxieties had drowned out the logic that he shouldn’t—he _couldn’t_ to it alone. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay darling.” His mom squeezes Yuuri’s hand. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

But won’t he, without Victor there? Tears flood his eyes, despite how stupid he tells himself he’s being. Victor hasn’t helped him with anything, he doesn’t _need_ Victor. But Victor’s made the days seem a little easier, and Yuuri knows now that if he asked, Victor would help. Hell, Victor could probably even dance to the dead with the amount of Yuuri’s soul inside him.

Will Victor come back? There’s no strain on the connection he has with Victor, other than an ache that Yuuri can’t be sure isn’t just his own. Maybe he can’t feel Victor when they’re worlds apart. Or maybe Victor… He was alone with a very angry Yurio, surrounded by water. Yuuri had even promised Yurio that he’d be the one that could kill Victor. Maybe… maybe he didn’t make it.

A sob breaks loose from Yuuri’s lips, and he brings his hands to his face to press his palms to his eyes, wishing he could shove the tears back in. He shouldn’t feel like this. He _shouldn’t_. Victor’s been the bane of Yuuri’s existence for months and…

Gods, who is he kidding? Victor’s just as much a part of his life as he’s ever been, and now even more so. Love may not be what he feels, not yet, but he knows that he doesn’t want his life to go back to what it was without Victor around. Didn’t he say that he loved Yuuri? Then he should come back home to Yuuri, not be… not…

“Yuuri? Yuuri! Darling, what’s wrong?” Gentle hands pull at Yuuri’s wrists, but he refuses to let her see him.

They’ve all worried so long and hard for him, but he’s just a mess of a god with nothing left to cling to anymore.

There’s a long minute of silence only punctuated with Yuuri’s small sobs and sniffles. He wishes he could control it, stop and save the tears for when he’s alone and doesn’t have to put this on his family, but it’s too much.

A rustle of clothes finally breaks them out of the quiet.

“I’m going to get tea.” His mom says, voice fading away as she speaks. “I think that we could all use something warm in our bellies.”

But will it really warm him up? Yuuko’s tea is the best he’s ever had—but now it’s tied with Victor, the softer version of him that could back down from Yuuko’s prodding him over his word choice.

“Yuuri,” Mari whispers, closer than she was before. “Was it Victor? I won’t kill him if you don’t want me to, but I will beat him up for you.”

Yuuri chokes on a laugh, finally pulling away his hands. “Victor tried to save me. It wasn’t Victor. I just… he just… He’s been different. So different.”

Mari gives a hesitant nod. “Phichit and Minami are different than they were. They seemed to care a _lot_ about you getting better.”

Yuuri tries to draw in a shaking breath. “They are. They were all under the influence of Minami’s power. Chris has been ridiculous but kind, Phichit’s actually been my friend, and Minami’s been more dedicated than ever. B-but V-V-Victor…”

“Has he kept trying to kill you?” Mari snarls. “Because if he has, I’ll rip off his—”

“He hasn’t.” Yuuri cuts her off before he’s haunted by whatever torture that she has in mind. “He’s… he’s been nice.” His voice cracks over the last word, even if it doesn’t do Victor any justice.

Mari snorts softly. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“No.” Yuuri knows convincing her is an impossible task. But he can’t risk not trying. Not when… not knowing if he’ll ever even see Victor again. “No, he is. We’ve talked a lot. He’s helped me train Yurio and Minami. He… he drinks hot chocolate with me sometime. And he… lets me use his power.” Though it isn’t just Victor’s power, Yuuri’s old powers twinned through it. It’s such a vivid feeling, he can almost sense the tingle of warm life through him now—even though it’s been dead for so long.

“It could be another plot to kill you.” Mari frowns, but her scowl is gone, at least.

Yuuri shakes his head, all hesitation gone. “I thought that’s what it had to be, but it isn’t. He…” He’s too much for Yuuri to put into words. Tears crawl down his face again, but he doesn’t care enough anymore to wipe them away. “He tried to save me. He m-means a lot to me.”

“Oh, Yuuri.” Mari reaches out and ruffles his hair. “Of course you had to fall for him.”

Yuuri gives a watery laugh. “I mean, at least he’s my husband. Or… w-was?”

“I don’t think he’s dead.” Mari shakes her head. “You know things would go to hell if one of you died. Yakov would have been in contact. Something’s happened, but I don’t think he’s dead.”

“I hope not,” Yuuri whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. Gods, these are the kinds of things he should know as Death. But if Victor died in the pools, and no one needed to reap him…

“Here we are!”

His mom’s voice jars Yuuri’s eyes open, and he can make out the blurry outline of her figure, and…

“Dad?” Yuuri croaks, wincing at his own voice.

“It’s good to see you awake!” Even from here he can see his dad’s huge smile. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen you.”

“I… it has.” Yuuri can’t help his lips turning up. Gods, how long _has_ it been since he’d seen them?

“Yuuri!” There’s a flash of movement and something smacks into Yuuri’s chest knocking the wind out of him.

He just gets it back when even more weight is added, and it takes a moment for his eyes to focus.

“Minami?” He blinks. “Phichit.”

“Gods, we were so worried about you!” Minami sobs into his shoulder. “I thought you _died._ ”

“I think I did,” Yuuri blurts without thinking about it.

“ _What_?” Phichit gasps.

“You weren’t watching?” Yuuri deflates a little. That would have answered a lot of his questions if he had been.

“No, um.” Phichit’s eyes flick to Yuuri’s family. “It seemed rude to spy when you two needed privacy.”

“It was the two of them?” Minami pulls back, face all red and splotchy from tears. “Yuuri, did he…?”

Yuuri sighs, shaking his head. He shouldn’t be tired of this question, Victor _did_ have a history of attempted murder. “He didn’t. It was… an accident. Kind of. But I wasn’t supposed to get hurt, and…” Yuuri’s fingers itch to reach for the scaring over his chest, but he can’t with the bodies on him.

It’s all so much like the last time he woke up when he saved Victor, except this time someone saved _him_. And last time it wasn’t Phichit and Minami here, it was Yurio, and Mila and Sara. Now it’s friends that he wasn’t sure he’d ever get back.

And apparently Yurio had just dumped his body and gone back up to the Overworld.

Yuuri clears his throat, pushing back the waves of emotion threatening to overtake him again. “Is everyone else okay? Mila, Sara, Yuuko, Minako…”

“Everyone’s fine down here, Yuuri.” Mari cuts in. “Everyone’s worried about you, but fine. Mila went up to the Overworld to try and see what’s going on, and Sara’s with her at the moment. We’re trying to get answers, but…”

Because no one knows anything.

“Yuuri.” His father steps forward. “What exactly happened?”

“I…” He really can’t put it off forever, can he? Why is there always so much explaining to do every time he wakes up like this? Still, they don’t need to know _everything_. “Yurio and Victor were there. There was… an incident, and everyone got upset, and I was accidentally killed.”

“You’re sure you died?” His mother’s brow furrows.

Yuuri nods. “Absolutely.”

“And Victor really didn’t…?” Minami trails off, eyes wide and hopeful.

“No, he tried to help.” Yuuri frowns. “He wanted to kill me before, I get why you guys keep asking, but _you_ two know better, I think.”

“Well, we do.” Phichit frowns, glancing toward the window with its curtains drawn. “But with the tree…”

Tree? Yuuri’s mind races, trying to make sense of their words, Maybe the branch that stabbed Yuuri had some residue of blood. Or a lot, to get Phichit worked up like this.

“But he didn’t do it.” Minami’s brow furrows. “And now he’s…”

Phichit and Minami stare at Yuuri.

“I don’t know.” Yuuri glances up at the ceiling. “He was fine when I…”

A shiver wracks through his body as he remembers the sensation of his soul unspooling from his body, the deads’ fingers drawing him deeper and deeper into the pools, sucking his life from him faster than he was already losing it.

“I fell into the pools.” And he’s somehow still here.

“Ah, well.” Mari leans back. “The explains a lot.”

“What?” Yuuri glances around at everyone else, everyone lost in some sort of thought. “How does that make sense?”

“You’ll see, Yuuri.” His mom smiles. “For now, let’s be done with the talk of death, shall we? I think it’s time for some tea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Before I get into the usual rambling, I have an announcement:**  
>  I probably won’t be posting the next chapter on Saturday. I may post on Sunday or Monday, if I can, but worse comes to worst, it’ll be a week late and I'll double-up if I have to. There’s been a death in my family and the funeral is this Friday, and I am not going to cope well and therefore won’t be online much if at all. I’m very, very sorry if I’m letting anyone down. I pride myself on keeping to schedule, but this is just… a _lot._ The other place I post to will continue as usual, probably, since it’s all scheduled and I don’t have to be online or promo anywhere and it’s just a lot less overwhelming. Again, I’m really sorry. During a very rough time in my life I relied on a fanfic that updated regularly to help me get by, and I’m so, so sorry if Resplendent is that fanfic for you. Everything’s written and will be coming when I can, I absolutely swear that. I just won't be around so much for a couple of weeks. Every read and every comment and every kudo will still be immensely appreciated, even if I lack my usual enthusiasm.  <3
> 
> So, the chapter. Surprise, there aren’t a lot of answers yet? But there will be more next chapter, when I can post it. ~~I told you that all tagged characters would be appearing, but I think most people forgot, whoops~~
> 
> Also, Hana-Tox made this gorgeous, absolutely stunning, incredibly painful (TW: blood) [illustration of _that scene_ from last chapter](https://twitter.com/hana_tox/status/1132558532539166720). Honestly, if I could atm it'd be my phone background because? So beautiful??? Brb, crying.
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for your support. <3 I can't believe we're this close to the end and people? Are still reading??? Thank you all for trusting me this far, and I hope that the rest of the story doesn't disappoint. <3<3 <3
> 
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	35. XXXV

“Well, well, well. Look at what the cat dragged in.” Phichit snickers.

Yuuri glances up from his breakfast, happy to have a break from forcing the food down his throat. The rest of his family is still asleep, and Minami might let him get away without eating—but Phichit isn’t so kind. And together? There’s no other option.

Well, at least he was fine until he sees who stands in the door of the small dining room.

Mila laughs, one hand on her hip, the other restraining a god who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. “If anyone’s a cat, it’s this feral little kitten.” She shoves her hands under Yurio’s arms and lifts him up.

“Let me down, you hag!” Yurio flails, arms and legs not connecting to anything.

Makka busts out from underneath the table to bark and nip at Yurio’s toes, making him flail harder. Phichit guffaws, and Minami desperately tries—and fails—to hide his snickering.

But Yuuri doesn’t laugh.

It’s been one week. No one knows the full story besides Victor and Yurio; only Yuuri’s parents and Mari know the details that Yuuri himself knows. Yuuri’s healed now, more than well enough to dance. Everyone tries to tell him to rest considering how long it took him to get better after the last incident regarding Yuuri’s soul. But he’s finally convinced them that he can resume his duties today. Because this is different.

And Yuuri intends to find exactly what happened and why it’s like this.

Yuuri stands up from his chair. “We need to talk.”

Everyone in the room stills, eyes flicking between Yuuri and Yurio—because there’s no doubt who Yuuri’s talking to. Mila might know something since she found Yurio first, apparently, but Yuuri wants his information from the source. Or as close to the source as possible. After all, there’s one other important perspective he’s missing, and one he’s not sure that he’ll ever get.

But Yurio knows. He has too.

Eventually, Yurio nods. “You’ve gotta dance this morning still, right? We can talk on the way out.”

Yuuri nods. “Please watch Makka for me.” He glances at Phichit to make sure he heard, and then strides forward, out the door. He can hear Yurio running to catch up and then keeping pace with him, but he doesn’t know how to start this conversation.

He wants to believe that Yurio would never hurt him, but Yuuri’s been betrayed before. Yurio knows how to kill him. In fact, Yurio’s loss of control is what almost killed him, then he disappeared with Yuuri’s body, and then dumped him off before going back to wherever he’d been—the Overworld, if Mila haunting him back is any indication.

But how does Yuuri test that? How will Yuuri know?

“I, um.” Yurio scratches the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

Something in Yuuri’s chest relaxes, just slightly. “Everything?”

“You know, um… Killing you. And not being around. And stuff,” Yurio mumbles, eyes on the ground.

“Oh.” Yuuri tilts his head. “Well, killing me wasn’t your fault because it obviously wasn’t on purpose, so you don’t need to apologize for that.”

“Yes it _was_. I literally made it… It went _right through_ …” Yurio frowns. “You’re too forgiving.”

Yuuri smiles, though it’s laced with the bitterness that runs through him. It’s not like he doesn’t have enough proof that Yurio’s got a point. “Probably. But at least I don’t hold onto my grudges for half a century.”

Yurio opens his mouth, shuts it, then shrugs. “Touché.”

“Speaking of, well, that situation, is he…?” Yuuri has the word on the tip of the tongue, but he can’t force it out. His chest tightens a bit, and he’s struck with the sudden realization that he can’t know. He doesn’t want to know. He survived after the first time he saved Victor on the hope that Victor was alive and that Yuuri had done something good for him. He accepted he would never know, and he didn’t dare ask. That was the _smart_ option.

“The bastard?” Yuuri glances over, and scowls at Yurio’s inspection. “Sorry, _your_ bastard? He’s, well…”

Yurio pushes open the front door and walks outside.

Yuuri follows, then immediately stops. “What is _that_?”

Even from the front door, Yuuri can see that there’s something in the pools. Something huge, and glowing, and… tree-shaped, if not quite tree-colored.

“Have you really not left the mansion?” Yurio pauses and turns around, then rolls his eyes. “Of course you fucking didn’t, who am I kidding.”

“Why has no one _mentioned_ it?” Yuuri tries to take it in, but then Yurio’s moving, and Yuuri can’t help but stumble after him.

“Probably because they assumed you knew. Or assumed you have, you know, eyes.”

Yuuri could point out the fact that everyone’s kept him locked away indoors since he’d woken up—leaving poor Minami to dance to the dead all on his own—but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes in the strange mass that’s disturbed his pools.

It really does look like a tree, branches twisting and reaching out toward the suns in the sky. But the leaves aren’t green, they’re… pink.

No, they aren’t leaves. They’re flowers. Small little flowers spread across the entirety of the giant tree, petals slowly falling down to the ground, coating the surface of the pools surrounding it. They glow slightly, casting an eery light while they travel through the air, and fading a bit once they reach the ground. If Yuuri had to wager a guess, they almost look like cherry blossoms.

Yuuri barely holds back a snort. Of course that would be the sort of tree that could grow within the pools. Talk about a tree whose symbolism is as complicated in its ties to Death as Yuuri himself is.

But the question isn’t really what it _means_ , it’s more how the hell it got there in the first place.

“Sorry,” Yurio mumbles, drawing Yuuri’s gaze away from the oddest sight Yuuri has probably ever seen—which is quite an accomplishment, honestly.

“What for?” Yuuri glances at Yurio for a moment before turning back to the tree. It’s growing close enough to the edge of the water that Yuuri could reach out and touch it. In fact…

It looks like it’s grown right about where Yuuri fell.

“Don’t make say it again, you’re not dumb. And you have eyes.”

Now _that_ gets Yuuri’s attention. He turns back around to find Yurio a bit hunched over, shoulders up and gaze on the ground. It’s such an unusual sight that Yuuri has to squint and adjust his glasses to make sure Yurio’s not wrong and Yuuri does not, in fact, have eyes, and this isn’t some grand hallucination. But no, no matter how long that the silence stretches, Yurio keeps his eyes averted.

“It’s not like you to apologize,” Yuuri says slowly, his frown deepening.

“Well, killing your friend changes some things.” Yurio kicks at the ground, scowling.

“But you didn’t mean—”

“No, I didn’t!” Yurio finally glances up, tears building in his eyes. “But that doesn’t fucking matter because you know what? I still saw your fucking dead, dull eyes, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I’m worse than that bastard.”

“Victor?” Yuuri blinks. “But he _tried_ to kill me, that automatically makes it worse.”

Yurio snorts. “Sure. And that’s why I saw you two… you were…” He shakes his head. “What sort of moron _doesn’t_ try to stab someone in the chest? And what kind of _idiot_ decides to fucking fence when that’s probably the best way to be murdered?” Yurio winces. “Sorry, I—”

“No, you’re right.” Yuuri smiles a little. “Victor was… very dramatic in his choices to find my mortality.” And honestly a little avoidant of the most vicious methods he could try, though maybe he was building up to them? But he was running out of time in the Underworld… Yuuri shakes his head. “And I thought it was too obvious for Victor to guess. There aren’t many gods whose mortal wounds make sense in mortal bodies. Yours, for example—”

“Can we not?” Yurio shivers. “I don’t want to talk about that, not after…” He looks up at Yuuri, eyes a little wide like he can’t believe that Yuuri’s actually here.

“Of course.” Yuuri resists the urge to reach out and hug Yurio—despite the fact that he himself could use a hug, too. Yurio’s never been a physical sort of person, and Yuuri will respect that. “I just wanted to find a way to keep you guys safe, and the only thing I could think of was the way that Victor had fenced to be able to marry me. And I could fence pretty well too, considering my position in the Underworld. So it made sense.”

Yurio sighs. “Of course it made sense to you. You should’ve told Mila or me, we wouldn’t have let you get away with that.”

Yuuri can’t resist it—he reaches out and ruffles Yurio’s hair if only to be instantly swatted away. “And what if Victor had eventually found a way to use Minami’s power on you? What if they found a way to get the information out of you?”

“It wouldn’t have been safer than this bullshit,” Yurio grumbles.

“Maybe.” Yuuri shrugs. “But it worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

Yurio blinks up at him. “Has it? Worked out, I mean. Because things seem messy as fuck right now.”

Yuuri glances back toward the tree that still has absolutely no excuse to be in the middle of his pools. The sun’s beginning to rise, and he should be dancing, but even the dead are quiet, as if listening to their conversation. If the spirits have to wait until the afternoon, they can.

Yuuri takes in a breath. “I don’t know. Everything’s always messy, and I… I don’t know everything yet. It could be worse than anything I could imagine. But…” But it can’t be worse than what’s happened before. Yuuri may have only had one actual death, but it feels like he’s had a lot of experience in dying and reviving himself—and his actual death was the least painful, both physically and mentally. Victor hopefully doesn’t hate him again. Victor hopefully isn’t in these very pools.

Yuuri shivers. Gods, what if Yuuri _does_ have to dance him past the pools? Will he know? Would it be a familiar feeling as Victor’s watery hands tried to latch onto his robes and his skin? Would Victor’s soul even reach out for him?

No, no he can’t think about that. He _can’t_. “I just… I have to have hope that we’ve gone through all of this for something. That after this storm’s settled and before the next one begins, there’s something to hold onto.”

“You’re such a sap.” But the words don’t hold Yurio’s usual bite, and he doesn’t scoff or roll his eyes.

Yuuri grins. “I guess I am.”

Yurio shakes his head. “Speaking of being a useless sap, how did you and him…?” He clears his throat. “Uh, well. I don’t think he was trying to kill you, at least.”

Yuuri tries desperately not to think about what the fact that Yurio having to ask means. If Victor were alive and well, couldn’t Yurio…? Yuuri shakes his head. No, Yurio hates Victor, maybe that’s why. He hopes. “I don’t know. He… he’d been helping me with my garden. And we’ve been spending a lot of time together, just talking. You know how different he was.”

“That wasn’t it.” Yurio lifts his chin. “When I left, you still hadn’t forgiven him.”

“Who says I’ve forgiven him? I mean it, Yurio, you can care about someone and not forgive what they’ve done to you.”

“Sure.” Yurio looks away. “But you’re going to forgive him.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, then shuts it. He… probably will. If Victor hadn’t been so earnestly trying to be the opposite of the god who had first come down to the Underworld, Yuuri might not be able to. If Victor betrays him again, it might break Yuuri completely. But he’s trying, and he hasn’t. So Yuuri lets out a sigh. “What makes you say that?”

“Because you still don’t know what the bastard did, do you?”

Yuuri’s eyes snap to Yurio, his hand rising to his chest where, buried beneath the fabric that protects his skin from the bitter chill of the air, a gnarled scar sits. “You mean, after…?”

Yurio hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. After I murdered you.”

“So I did die.” Yuuri glances quickly at the tree. It’s not that he doesn’t know—he felt it happening. But there’s a difference between thinking that it had to have happened and knowing it did.

“You got stabbed right through your fucking heart—which I still can’t believe it was so damn _obvious_ —and then you fell right into the pools. No one could get to you. Of course you died.” Yurio crosses his arms.

“But I’m no longer dead?” Yuuri gestures at himself. His heart is beating—somehow. He’s walking, he’s talking, and he should be able to dance to the dead, same as ever.

“No shit.” Now Yurio glances at the tree. “But I didn’t save you. Victor did.”

Yuuri’s heart both soars and sinks, torn in two completely different directions. Victor really does care for Yuuri if he saved him.

But Yuuri knows the cost of bringing the dead back to life, and Victor doesn’t have Yuuri’s connection to both the living and the dead.

“So you fell into the water, and Victor freaked the fuck out for a second. Not attacking anyone or whatever he would’ve done before Minami got a grip, but it… wasn’t pretty. I might’ve also gotten a little upset, and I might have tried to push Victor into the pools? Don’t look at me like that, you don’t know how it feels when…” His eyes flick toward Yuuri, and then away again. “I guess you kinda do, never mind. But unlike you, I’m not a genius and can’t just pluck people’s souls from the air and bring you back to life.”

“Neither can Victor.” Yuuri would say more, but shuts his mouth at the glare Yurio sends his way.

“Apparently you saving him a dozen fucking times messed with his own powers, or maybe it was your marriage or something, I dunno. He explained it really quick, but I wasn’t exactly fucking listening, because he started with the tree.” He gestures walks over and flicks one of the branches, a rush of petals falling to the ground.

“A cherry tree,” Yuuri murmurs, almost reaching out for it, and stopping himself just short.

“Yeah. It was really freaky to watch happen too, like some ghost tree or something? Listen, that’s not important. He grew the tree, and the branches had to pull away to get you out of the cocoon he had you wrapped in, and then he… grabbed your soul or something? And had me transport all of us to the Overworld.”

“But I can’t.” Yuuri takes a step back. There’s no way, he’s made too many sacrifices. “I… I can’t go up.”

“That’s what I said, but he said something about merging your souls so that you should be able to go? Since he took it from you in the first place.”

Yuuri swallows, trying to relieve his dry mouth and failing. He doesn’t like where this is going. Giving back parts of Yuuri means less to keep Victor stable. And if he wanted to go back to the Overworld… “He wanted to see Yakov, didn’t he.” It isn’t a question, because something deep in Yuuri _knows_. He’d made the same call, all those weeks ago.

“Yeah. Same as you.” Yurio frowns. “Except I went with him. Not that I learned anything.”

“What?” Yuuri blinks at Yurio.

“Well, I went up there, Yakov checked you out, and he and Victor talked about what needed to happen, and how no one might make it out alive. I don’t know if he was trying to convince Victor to give you up, but Victor wasn’t having any of it. He pointed out everything that would go to shit, so… Yakov agreed and kicked me out. I waited for fucking _days_. Otabek eventually joined me to help pass the time, but…” Yurio takes a shuddering breath. “I don’t know. But eventually Yakov brought you to me and said to take you home so that you could heal. Of course I said like hell I would, but he said that the Underworld would eventually pull you back like last time, so I gave in. I handed you over to Phichit, came back up, and Yakov was gone again. I haven’t seen him since, and I can’t get into his rooms. He looked… exhausted, honestly.”

Yuuri’s hands shake. He crosses them in front of his chest to try and stop it, but it doesn’t do much good. “So… is Victor…?”

“Who fucking knows what’s going on with Victor.” Yurio scowls. “But… if he was dead, you’d feel it, wouldn’t you?”

Yuuri blinks back tears, turning and walking toward the trunk of the tree so Yurio can’t see his face, even if he can hear Yuuri’s voice cracking. “I hope so.”

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri reaches out and places his hand on the tree—

And almost jerks back.

It’s so powerful that even Yuuri, with any power to do with life long ripped free from his soul, can feel the current of the life flowing through the expanse of it, roots buried deep, deep into the ground beneath the pools. Perhaps it’s so potent because it’s somehow staying alive in the pool of dead, or because Victor grew it, but Yuuri doesn’t know. He might never know.

What he does know is that it feels like Victor, warm and gentle as the current of life seeps into him through the contact, cracking open the seams that Yuuri’s been trying to hold shut. Tears roll down Yuuri’s face as he leans his forehead on the bark, knees weak beneath him, even if he knows better to fall with the pools so close.

Gods don’t have other gods to pray to, but Yuuri wishes desperately they did. That he could beg and barter with the cosmos to let him have Victor back. They might finally, _finally_ be able to share some sort of happiness, but everything keeps working against them.

Why can’t he just have this?

“Hey.” Yurio’s hand falls on Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri’s heart breaks just a little more at the comfort. “The sun’s almost risen. I can help dance this morning if you want.”

Yuuri scrubs the tears away from his face, wincing as he covers the fine fabric of his robes with snot. “Y-yeah. Let’s dance.”

Life—and Death, for that matter— doesn’t wait for anyone, after all. Time marches ever on and…

And maybe Yuuri needs to learn how to do this alone.

 _No._ Not alone. He has his family, and Minami, and Yurio. Yuuko, Minako, Mila, Makka. He’s not alone, and he shouldn’t keep trying to carry the weight of Death on just his shoulders.

Even if he’s missing the shoulders he’d like to share it most with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, you guys were _so amazing_ with last chapter and me having to take a break, thank you so, so much. I missed you all and I wish I could have posted, but it was definitely for the best and I'm still not at 100% at all, but I'm getting there. Thank you guys so, so much.  <3
> 
> Only two chapters left to go?!?! I just
> 
> *lies down for the next two weeks*
> 
> Seriously, thank you all so much for being amazing, and making posting this fic such a great, humbling experience. You guys are the best!!! <3 <3 <3
> 
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	36. XXXVI

No one makes katsudon quite like Yuuri’s mom does.

With how busy she’s been her whole life, it was a rare treat for Yuuri when he was younger. He remembers eating it after his first reaping, and his first successful dancing, and a couple of times when he was recovering from the whole Victor incident. He’s sure she would have made it more often if he asked, he just saw how busy she was, and would rather have her little free time for himself rather than spent cooking food. But now that she’s retired and hovering like she’s the concerned parent she is, it’s a tad less rare.

“If you keep up with this, I’m going to put on so much weight I won’t be able to dance to the dead. I’ll have to roll right into the pools and float around for them.” Yuuri collapses into a loveseat in the sitting room they’re retired to, letting out a small moan.

“Good!” His mother chirps. “You’ve gotten far too skinny while I’ve been gone. Don’t worry Yuuko dear, I don’t blame you.” His mom’s hand falls on Yuuko’s shoulder before she can even get a word out. “I know how stubborn he can be.”

“Well, he might have put on more weight without the _poisoning_.” Yuuko huffs a sigh, crossing her arms.

The room stills, all eyes focusing on Yuuri.

Now it’s Yuuri’s turn to sigh. Except for his parents and Mari, everyone here has been around for most of Yuuri’s marriage to Victor: Yuuko, Phichit, Minami, Mila, and Yurio. But sometimes it feels like they don’t expect Yuuri to have grown and handled his own feelings about it, too—as well as he ever handles his feelings ever, he supposes.

“You know…” Minami fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “Sometimes I wonder if Victor actually wanted to kill you this whole time. It was obvious that you weren’t lying when you said you couldn’t be poisoned, but he kept trying for it.”

“And he was running on limited time, too.” Mila taps her lip.

Phichit sits in the cushion next to Yuuri, throwing an arm around him. “Victor only wanted to kill Yuuri in theory.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Yurio grumbles, probably still grumpy that Otabek hadn’t followed him down from the Overworld yet.

It’s only been a few days, and Yuuri’s sure that Otabek has his own duties to attend to—but he’s not about to point that out to Yurio.

“Oh Yurio, so blind to the ways of the world.” Phichit waves a dramatic hand, obviously trying— and succeeding to rile Yurio up. “Yuuri was Victor’s reason for living, and you wouldn’t have known, but death isn’t something Victor’s actively chased for a while. So he tried ridiculous methods until Yuuri became a reason for living in a different way.” He throws a wink at Yuuri.

“Assuming he’s alive,” Yuuri mutters.

“You’d know if he was dead.” His father assures, but his smile is faint.

It’s not like anyone _really_ knows for sure.They could all read about what it’s like to lose the one you’re married to, talk to gods who have lost their partner, but the accounts vary, and there’s no guarantee of anything. A lot of it tends to come down to the depth of the connection they have, the length of their marriage, and a bunch of other small things. But they don’t know. Not one of them has lived through it.

Except for maybe Yuuri.

“Well we can’t change shit, so we just have to sit and wait until Yakov stops holing up in his palace like the loser he is.” Yurio crosses his arms and leans back, eyeing the room.

Yuuri snickers. Only Yurio would call Life a loser—and honestly, he’s probably one of the few that can get away with it.

“Awwww, we know you love him, Yurio.” Mila grins wickedly.

“I’d love him if he wasn’t as much of a stubborn ass.” Yurio snorts.

“Well.” Yuuri’s mother places her chin in her hands. “He always was a bit of a stick in the mud.”

Mila guffaws, and Yurio lets out a whoop of triumph, Minami saying something rapid-quick that gets lost in all of the noise.

Yuuri can’t help a small smile, himself. It’s strange having so many different people that were large parts of different eras of his life all in the same place, but part of it feels right, too.

“Yuuri.”

He starts swiveling to look at Phichit who doesn’t have a hint of amusement on his face. Yuuri glances around, finding everyone else preoccupied with the shenanigans that Yurio started. “Um. Is everything all right?”

“Well…” Phichit frowns. “I’ve been debating telling you this, and honestly I still don’t know if I should. But I can’t keep it from you, and I’d rather you hear it from me. I’ve heard a rumor.”

Yuuri goes stiff, blood going cold as his mind races and scrambles for purchase. If it were a rumor about something down here, Phichit wouldn’t hesitate to tell him. It would be Yuuri’s business. No, this has to be about the Overworld. It _has_ to be about…

What if he’s dead? What if he’s alive but not coming back? What if he’s not the same after whatever he sacrificed? Not in the way that Yuuri wasn’t the same, but something much deeper and much more broken. So far as they all know, Yakov has still been missing, presumably with Victor. Or… whatever’s left of Victor.

“Hey there, breathe Yuuri.” Phichit grabs Yuuri hands, and grounds him in the moment.

Yuuri takes a deep breath, forcing himself to hold it before slowly exhaling. He repeats the process a few times, trying desperately to focus on that, and not the horrors that his mind is creating. “What is it?” He finally manages to force out words. “Tell me before I make it worse than it is.”

Phichit gives him a wry smile. “It’s not bad. Well, I don’t think it’s bad.”

“Just say it.” Yuuri glances around, happy to find everyone else giving them some space. It’s not like they probably haven’t noticed. “Please.”

“All right, all right.” Phichit leans in a little closer, voice lowering. “Rumor has it that Victor’s alive. Not only that, but that he’s up and moving.”

“He… what?” Yuuri can barely manage to get those words out before his mind begins racing twice as fast as before. Victor’s all right. _Victor’s all right_. But how is he okay so soon after Yuuri’s death? Unless it wasn’t Victor that saved him? But then… who? And how? It would have been different from the start because Victor isn’t Yuuri, but this would be absurd recovery. Though there are so many factors to consider, like how there are more gods with healing powers in the Overworld, and…

And why hasn’t Victor come back down to the Underworld if he’s okay? Why hasn’t he somehow reached out to Yuuri?

Victor might not want to come back after everything. He said… he said he _loved_ Yuuri, though. He saved Yuuri’s life. He’s done so much that Yuuri might consider him nearly forgiven. Why wouldn’t he come back?

Phichit’s eyes search Yuuri’s face. “I don’t know a lot about it. Just that he came out of nowhere and started raising hell.”

Yuuri laughs, a harsh sound that grates on his ears as his chest aches. “If he wanted hell, he could’ve stayed here.”

Phichit squeezes Yuuri’s hand. “He would have if he could have, I know that.”

“You say that, but there’s no way you could know.” Yuuri bites down on his lip, hard. “If he’s ‘raising hell,’ he’s well enough to do what he wants. It doesn’t stop him from trying to make contact. He could even send someone down here at a last resort, but he hasn’t.”

Maybe… maybe Victor had lied again. But how? How with all the evidence that Yuuri has could he have been lying? It would be nice if knowing that it can’t be possible was enough to squash that doubt, but he can’t shake it.

“That’s… true.” Phichit grimaces. “But spring’s coming up, too. I can imagine that’s taking up a lot of his time, if he’s able to move around.”

Which he shouldn’t be able to if he saved Yuuri. He’d have to be completely exhausted, especially considering what he’d done before going up to the Overworld.

Every night, Yuuri goes to his bedroom, opens the window, and sees the tree glowing with its blossoms even before spring. The blooms are supposed to be quick, blink and you’ll miss them. Mortals equate them with the fragility of life, so easily lost.

Then what does it mean that it was the tree that Victor was able to grow to save him?

Phichit sighs. “I knew I shouldn’t tell you, but Minami…”

Yuuri grips Phichit’s hand. “No, I’m happy that I know. Don’t give me that look, it’s true.”

And really, it is. He may have a lot of questions, but a lot more answers—for once. It’s just a rumor, Phichit would have said if it was a confirmed fact, but Victor’s probably alive. Phichit knows how to discern lies from the facts, and they may not have the details that confirm everything, but… He’s okay. They’re both okay.

Something untangles inside of him, still fragile and uncertain, but solid and warm. Victor might not be back now, but he might come back. And if he doesn’t, gods know that Yurio will probably run up there and shake answers out of him. Honestly, Yuuri wouldn’t be surprised if one of his other friends follow along once they found out.

Wait. He narrows his eyes at Phichit. “How long have you known about this?”

Phichit sits up straighter. “What?”

“You said that Minami is the one who convinced you to tell me.” Yuuri takes his hand away from Phichit, scowling. “Who else knows, and how long?”

“Um…” Phichit’s eyes flick around the room, and Yuuri’s follow.

It’s gone eerily quiet and still, all eyes on the two of them. For a moment Yuuri wonders at what they overheard, but their silence instead of questioning says a lot.

“You _knew_.” Yuuri stands up, looking at them all. Some manage to look ashamed, but not all. “How long?”

“Only a few days,” Yuuri’s mom attempts to comfort.

“We weren’t sure he was even okay,” Mila pipes in.

“We _still_ don’t know if the fucker is still kicking.” Yurio crosses his arms, looking away.

“But there are more rumors lately, too many for it to mean nothing.” Phichit reaches out, but hesitates. “It almost sounds like he’s getting ready for spring, but I can’t be sure.”

Yuuri takes a moment, glancing at them all again. If this were mere months ago, this would have been all Yuuri wanted. An escape from Victor, surrounded by friends and family—both old and new. Everything’s as peaceful as it ever gets in the Underworld. He has no right to complain or be upset anymore, especially not after how he’s handled the whole Victor business.

But he is.

He doesn’t want it to be like months ago, but that’s entirely the problem; he _wants_ like he hasn’t allowed himself to for years. He loves everyone in this room, he wouldn’t have survived without their support. It just… It feels incomplete.

Yuuri sighs. “Fine. I understand. I’m going to get Makka and head to my rooms.”

“Darling, you know we didn’t do it to hurt you.” His mom stares at him with wide eyes, hands clenched in the folds of her clothes.

“I know.” Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut for a second. “I do. But I… I need some time to think. I don’t know how to feel anymore, everything been so off, since…”

His mom nods. “Take all the time you need. But you should have Yuuko take you down to the kitchens to get Makka.”

Yuuri glances over at Yuuko, frowning. It’s true that Makka’s probably playing with the triplets down there—Takeshi normally won’t let the four of them wreak havoc on the rooms that the family shares, preferring the easy clean-up of the kitchen for puppy sitting times. It helps to exhausts the triplets, too; a feat not easily managed. Since the boring old gods would just be chatting and having dinner, it was the best for Makka and the young ones. So it makes sense that Yuuko would go with him. Yuuri knows that his mom just wants to make sure he isn’t alone, making sure he has Yuuko until he has Makka again, but…

“Is that all right with you?” Yuuko stares up at him, eyebrow furrowed.

Yuuri lets out a sigh. He can stand a few minutes more of socializing if that will them feel better. “Sure, let’s go.”

She hops to her feet, saying her goodbyes, and heading toward the door. They step out into the dim hallway, the air slightly chilled from the winter breeze outside.

Now’s around the time of year that Yuuri has to brace himself to not feel the spring, that he can no longer feel the life that he once could. It was a vivid and sharp reminder Victor had been distant to him in all ways, but this year… Yuuri’s not sure if he should brace himself for not feeling it, or not seeing spring at all.

“I’m really sorry, Yuuri.” Yuuko’s voice echoes too loud in the hallway, reminding Yuuri that he should be walking, not just thinking.

“No, I… I understand. I think.” Yuuri keeps his eyes to the floor as they walk, not wanting to look up. “But I’d rather you don’t keep anything like that from me again.”

“Of course not,” Yuuko rushes to say. “I hope that nothing like this ever happens again.”

Yuuri snorts. “With my luck, something equally dramatic is bound to happen by the end of the week, and it’s a Thursday.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t say that.” She nudges her shoulder against his. “Just because things have been, well… _rough_ before doesn’t mean it has to play out like that every time, right?”

“I hope not.” Yuuri finally chances a glance up. “But I guess we’ll never know. Unless you happen to know one of the Fates?”

“Well, I may not be Phichit, but you never know.” She winks. “What if I’m Fate?”

Yuuri laughs. “You’ve been way too surprised by everything to be Fate, nice try.”

“Hey! Maybe I’m just a great actor.”

“You’re the Goddess of Drama now, too? My, I didn’t know you had so many talents, Yuuko. You’re wasted in the kitchens.”

She smacks the back of Yuuri’s head playfully, more ruffling his hair more than anything. “Hey, don’t make fun of me!”

“I’m not, I’m not!” Gods know that Yuuri wishes he could take her powers as the Goddess of Organization, sometimes. His mind and his work seem like it’s in more of a mess than not these days. “You’re an amazing goddess and could do whatever you wanted to do, and you know I’d support you.”

She shoots him a smile, genuine in the way that makes her eyes crinkle at the edges. “You’re too nice Yuuri.”

Yuuri waves his hands. “No, no, I’m hardly nice. I’m just… Yuuri.”

“And I say Yuuri is nice.” She takes a few steps ahead, swinging around to look at Yuuri in the face. “Yuuri is nice, kind, powerful, and _way_ too modest. Not that’s something I’d change about you.”

Yuuri pauses for just a moment, those words pulling up others, spoken a long time ago by someone different.

_Yuuri, you deserve better than what you think of yourself._

A shiver wracks through Yuuri as he picks up the pace and walks past Yuuko. It’s still not fair that he’s said that, but for a whole mess of other reasons now. He can’t just say things like that and do things like he has and just _leave_. He has to come back.

He has to.

“Yuuri…?” Yuuko catches up to his faster stride, trying to catch a glimpse of his face.

“Sorry,” Yuuri murmurs, slowing down. “I just… everything’s been so confusing.

“I know.” She reaches up, patting his shoulder. “It’s been confusing for me, I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for you. But you have all of us, you know? And we believe in you and we’ll help you through it.”

He manages a small smile. “Thanks, Yuuko.”

“Of course! I’m not your first friend for nothing.” She shoots a smirk Yuuri’s way as she pushes open the door to the kitchen, letting out the shrieking of children and the distinct woof of a three-headed Makkachin. Yuuko clucks her tongue. “Of course they’re at it again. Girls!”

The focus turns on them the moment they’re through the doors, the triplets flinging themselves at Yuuko while a large Makka leaps toward Yuuri, licking him and sniffing him and making sure everything’s okay.

“Who’s a good girl?” Yuuri coos quietly, petting her softly and slowly as she begins to shrink down to her slightly more manageable size.

“Yuuri?” Yuuko stands at the door holding one of the girls that are almost too large to be held, that concerned furrow back in her brow. “Are you going to be all right?”

Yuuri hesitates for only a second before Makka’s pressing her one head into Yuuri’s palm, and a smile spreads across his face. “Yeah.”

Even if he isn’t fine now, he’ll get there. He can hope that things will get better because he has so many people to help him pick himself back up when he inevitably falls. He still wants answers, he still craves a presence that’s worlds away, but…

But if Victor’s alive, maybe this can work out.

“Good.” She beams. “Well, if you’re fine, then we’ll—”

Makka barks, making Yuuri jolt back and Yuuko stop talking.

“Makka what…?” Yuuri’s brow furrows, glancing around as the hair on Makka’s back stands up straight, though she doesn’t go back to having three heads. She’s looking at the door, but…

Something begins to dawn on the edge of his awareness.

Yuuri sucks in a deep breath. Yuuko probably talks, probably asks what’s wrong, but Yuuri can’t hear. He can’t see, he can’t think, and he can’t feel anything except for a warmth that blooms across his senses, tingling across his skin and sharpening his vision.

It’s that stirring he felt when he first woke up with his new scar.

It’s the life that he swore he couldn’t feel when he pressed his hand to the base of the cherry tree.

It’s the warmth and the tenderness of Victor’s hand wrapped around his as they draw Yuuri’s garden into bloom inch by slow inch.

It’s Spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder  
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> What Yuuri means  
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> By Spring  
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> You guys didn't think it'd be that easy and we'd have a full resolution this chapter, did you? You should know me better than that by now. ;)
> 
> Seriously, though--I know I gushed last time but I'm still blown away at everyone's kindness and understanding. <3 I know the answers aren't all out there yet, but I really, really hope the conclusion will be satisfying! ~~Noooo, I'm not absolutely terrified and sad about saying goodbye to this project hahaha... hah... ha~~ Thank you all so, so much for all of the support and being so amazing along the way.  <3 <3 <3
> 
> [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QdeWa3rNac2DJXZnyxugn) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tZ4l84zBDrBxcwvzvKu1v) (Anyone can rec at any time!)


	37. XXXVII

Yuuri sprints from the kitchen, feet moving so fast that he nearly falls as he tries to take turns. Yuuko calls out after him, but she doesn’t know, she can’t understand. The thing about the trickling of spring into the Underworld is that it’s something that a god needs to have an affinity with life to really feel and understand.

Something that Yuuri shouldn’t have.

Makkachin runs alongside Yuuri, barking whenever she thinks that Yuuri’s taking too long to round a corner or get down a hall.

It’s not _his_ fault that this house is so much like a maze.

The two of them barrel out of the front door, and Yuuri pauses for one instant to stare at the cherry tree.

It almost seems to be glowing brighter now, a soft pink haze reflecting off the pools and filling the night air with a soft, floral scent. It could be reacting to Spring—the season or the person—but that’s not something for Yuuri to question right this very second.

He turns and runs along the side of the house, Makka not waiting as she sprints ahead. She’s come outside with him alone dozens of times, and they have old habits worn into them from it. She knows exactly where Yuuri’s going.

Yuuri can barely catch his breath as he runs after her, lungs burning as he turns the corner and practically leaps into his half-finished garden.

He takes just a couple of seconds to catch his breath, but Makka isn’t having any of that, leaping around him and barking.

“You know, don’t you?” Yuuri lets out a chuckle. “I guess you would—you have more life in you than I do.”

Or at least, that’s what he’s assumed.

Slowly but surely, Yuuri makes his way over to a corner that he and Victor haven’t so much as touched yet. Yuuri would be lying if he said he wasn’t avoiding it on purpose. It was the first part of the garden that he’d worked on when his parents agreed to let him have a section of the land to learn how to master his ability. Phichit had even helped him turn the earth here before they learned Yuuri didn’t even really need to—after they knew, he’d spent days dramatically insisting he had been used and abused by Yuuri.

A small smile spreads across his lips. It really is good to have Phichit back. They’re both different than they were; after everything, it would have been impossible for them to be the exact same people that they had been as young reapers. But they’ve gotten a fragment of what they once had back.

And Yuuri might have recovered even more than just his broken relationships from the past.

It can’t be possible. But it also shouldn’t be possible for him to feel spring finally seeping into the Underworld after it’s trip from the Overworld and through the mortal realm. When he touched that tree, he shouldn’t have been able to feel more than _maybe_ a hint of Victor’s power flowing through it. If it was absorbing power from the dead themselves, it would’ve felt different. But it didn’t. And when he reaches into himself, feeling for those jagged edges that he avoids looking at all costs, he shouldn’t find the edges smoothed down, but he does.

It’s not the same as what he was. If it had been Yuuri would have known instantly when he woke up—

But he _had_ noticed, hadn’t he? He’d felt the tingling of life beneath his skin, and he’d written it off as a side-effect of whatever it took to revive him from his death.

Well. All in all, it has to be a side effect of being resurrected, doesn’t it?

Makkachin presses against his side, looking at him through wide and imploring eyes. Even she knows that he’s been procrastinating. You know it’s bad when your dog calls you out.

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri crouches down and reaches out for a small, shriveled plant. It isn’t anything special, no unique concoction of species. It’s just one of the first flowers he planted: a daisy.

Moving his hand in gentle movements, he dances his fingers in the air above the plant, weaving himself around it. It seems to be holding, but before he can think too much about what that means, he gives a gentle tug on the plant’s fragile and abandoned life-force, begging it to bloom.

For a long moment, nothing happens. Yuuri keeps up the motions, but his heart falls out of it, sinking into his stomach. This was silly. Ridiculous. He can feel Victor, but that doesn’t mean… Gods, he’s such a fool.

Then Makka gives a soft _boof_ , making Yuuri blink away his tear-blurred vision just in time to see the first petal unfold.

He sucks in a breath, but doesn’t let himself stop moving. Now that it’s been drawn out of its long hibernation, the small plant _thrives_. It reaches up for Yuuri’s hand like he’s the sun, blooming and blossoming until he has to stand back up to allow it to grow taller and taller until it’s more of a bush than a delicate flower.

A laugh bubbles up from Yuuri’s lips before he can help it. Honestly, he doesn’t _want_ to help it. He moves his arms in broad, sweeping movements, wrapping around the young plants all around him, knowing it will exhaust him but not caring in the least about that. Makka runs around him excitedly, and somehow weaves _into_ the mess of it, making Yuuri’s breath catch in his throat.

He recognizes the power in her. Unlike with Victor, what’s contained within Makka is unadulterated _Yuuri_ , and it weaves through the magic that he weaves—a feeling both familiar and unfamiliar to him.

He twirls, raising his arms as he pulls on all of the plants, begging them to bloom and to grow. It’s easier than he remembered. Maybe it’s because he’s read so much on other powers lately. Maybe it’s because he’s learned some from Victor while they made small progress on this garden.

Maybe it’s because the power inside him isn’t entirely his own.

His movements hesitate at that thought, but he jumps quickly back into action once he feels his hold slip. Instead, he closes his eyes and doesn’t think, he just _feels_. The plants practically sing to him, as if celebrating that he’s finally come back to them after so long.

And he’s _missed_ this. He loved spending the time with Victor, slowly breathing life into something that he long thought was dead, but it’s nothing compared to this. The freedom of his movement and the humming of his power as the flowers sing their silent song, directing his movements, is delicious. It’s perfect. It would only be better if—

A hand wraps around Yuuri’s own, another one gently touching his arm.

His eyes instantly fly open and… and…

“Victor?” It can’t be. It _can’t_. He knows those eyes, even if the bags underneath them are new yet familiar in a frightening way. But before he can worry he catches sight of Victor’s smile, a genuine thing that lights up his entire face.

Yuuri might be dreaming or hallucinating, but if he is, he never wants it to stop.

“Shall we?” Victor’s smile only grows. “Don’t stop on my account.”

He wants to say yes, but something crawls into his throat, clogging it and chocking him. It’s childish, he knows it is, but this is _Victor_. The same god that he’s spent his entire childhood fantasizing about dancing in this very garden with, that hung the stars in Yuuri’s sky. They’ve gone through so much since then, but a part of Yuuri will always feel in awe of Victor. And it’s hard _not_ to, what with how Victor’s power is slowly washing its way through the _entire Underworld_ , when Yuuri’s has barely even left this mountaintop. He knows it’s different, but…

 _But_ the life around him is starting to settle from his dance, and he doesn’t want to stop when he can _finally_ have this again.

He reaches out, grabbing hold of Victor, and pulls him into motion.

A laugh bubbles out of Victor’s mouth as Yuuri leads them carefully across this small space of his garden. It’s been years, _so many years_ since Yuuri’s danced with Victor like this. They may have danced after the treaty was renegotiated and they were married, but that’s nothing compared to this.

It takes only moments for the combined magic of the life inside them both to bring the area around them into bloom, Makka weaving around them like she’s trying to dance, too. Yuuri leads them back, through the flower that they’ve already brought back to bloom, dragging Victor into the maze. The hedges shoot up around them as they move inward, curving over them on a dome as if to protect them from the outside world. Small buds emerge from the deep, dark greenery, tiny pink blossoms like honeysuckle. Unlike regular honeysuckle, however, the pollen that escapes them begins to glow soft and golden, not entirely unlike the cherry blossoms floating in the pools. It gives them just enough light to step and twirl by, barely enough to see each others’ eyes glinting as they smile and laugh.

There isn’t enough breath for words, but that doesn’t matter right now, not when the essence of their souls intermingle around them, wrapping around each other just as much as it does the long-stagnant flora around them.

It’s so much like the very first time they met, and yet so much different. They’re older now, they’ve changed. Yuuri knows exactly who Victor is, and the same could be said for Victor of Yuuri. Instead of being in the Overworld, they’re deep in Death’s domain, Yuuri himself never able to go back up.

But they still move so easily, as if they were made for this dance. Maybe they were. Yuuri doesn’t pretend to know what the cosmos have in store for him anymore. And he doesn’t want to argue when they’ve brought this back to him.

They glide their way through the entirety of the maze, through the little rooms that Yuuri had only managed to plant seedlings in, now filled to the brim with leaves and petals and scents that Yuuri thought he’d never get a chance to smell. By the time they come to the exit, Makka collapses onto the grass, and Yuuri and Victor lean on each other and sway as they slow to a stop, both of them breathing heavily.

Yuuri looks up at Victor, searching his face as he smiles softly down at him. This is real. This is happening. This _has_ happened. He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as he leaps forward, clinging to Victor with all he has.

Victor takes a step back to try and stay upright, but the exhaustion of the dance—and probably spring not long before it—takes its toll and the both of them fall backward.

Yuuri buries his face into Victor’s chest as Victor’s own arms wrap around him. “You’re alive. You’re alive, and you’re okay, and I…”

One of Victor’s hands move, fingers stroking through Yuuri’s hair. “Why wouldn’t I be alive?”

Yuuri looks up, resting his chin on Victor. “Because I… I was…” He swallows, holding Victor a little tighter as the sensation of something speared through his chest flits through his body. “Then you didn’t come back down, and Yurio wasn’t even sure, and Yakov wasn’t talking to anyone, not even my parents, so all I could do was—”

Victor moves, sitting up and pulling Yuuri into his lap. He gently takes hold of Yuuri’s head and presses his ear to Victor’s chest to hear his racing heart echo in his eardrum. “I’m here,” Victor murmurs. “I’m alive. I didn’t come back earlier because I _couldn’t_. I had to recover, Yakov wouldn’t let me send a message or have any contact with anyone, and then I danced in spring as fast as I could. I wanted to come back, and I should have… I should have done something. But I was afraid.” He takes a shaky breath.

“Afraid?” Yuuri doesn’t lift his head, but he leans in closer.

“That you would hate me. That sense would catch up to you and you’d make me stay in the Overworld.”

“Never. You won’t get rid of me that easily.” Yuuri reaches up and clutches at the thin fabric of Victor’s robes—and stills in his movements as his fingers can make out the shape of the skin beneath them. “You… you have the scarring, too.”

“Oh, yes.” Victor sits up a little straighter, a false lightness tainting his voice. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Having unchanging bodies and then having them suddenly different.”

Yuuri pulls his face away, narrowing his eyes at him. “Victor, what happened after my heart stopped? How did you…?”

Victor sighs, arms tightening around Yuuri as he dips his head down to rest on Yuuri’s shoulder. “It was complicated. Yakov thought it was impossible, even with all the advantages of being in the Overworld, and our souls so threaded already. But I convinced him to go through with it, and it worked. You… you have half of my heart in you.”

“I… what?” Yuuri blinks, suddenly far too aware of the sharp pounding in his own chest. “That’s not how organs work.”

“No, it really isn’t.” Victor chuckles. “But we’re gods. Are you going to argue with it?”

“I guess not.” Yuuri leans his head against Victor’s, letting himself feel the heat of his skin for just a moment. He’s here. He’s alive. He… doesn’t have a whole heart. “But you know that’s not the whole answer.”

Victor sighs. “No, I suppose it isn’t. Well, the instant I grew that tree and got you out of the water, I noticed I could see this… light? Not quite a light. But a deep blue smoke, really, was coming out of you, and I knew that had to be your soul. So I wove it into myself, grabbed your body, and had Yurio take me to the Overworld.”

Yuuri nods. That much he’d been able to piece together from Yurio and what he could guess.

“Well, Yakov wasn’t particularly excited about having another body in his rooms—and this time a corpse, no less. He wouldn’t help me at first. He said he wouldn’t play into my little plans, and that it wasn’t important enough to risk both of us being dead. _I_ said that Death himself was more important than Spring, and that I’d try to revive you by myself and probably make a mess of it if he wouldn’t help.”

“Victor,” Yuuri gasps his name, eyes wide. “You shouldn’t have—”

“But I did, and I’d do it again.” Victor lifts his head, and there’s something hard in his eyes—not cold, not how they used to be all of the time, but absolute in their resolution. “I’d do it as many times as I had to, to make sure that you were able to come back down here to your friends and family. Regardless, Yakov sent Yurio away, brought in one of the best healing gods in the Overworld, and they went about it the best way they could, so that neither of us had to be torn to pieces, like you did.”

“So… you gave nothing up?” Yuuri can barely manage to whisper the words. It’s too good to be true.

“Ah, well.” Victor glances away for a second. “Considering how we were rather patched together to begin with, there were some… compromises made. Not enough that my recovery wasn’t faster than yours ever has been, even if it was more… intense.” He brushes his lips gently against Yuuri’s forehead. “I’m so sorry that you had to suffer through anything like that.”

“No.” Yuuri pulls back before he lets himself get distracted. “What did you give up?”

Victor gives a wry smile.“ You won’t let me get away with anything, will you? Well, our gift of life, what remained between the two of us, is split. So I’m not nearly as powerful as you had made me. Otherwise, most the rest is the same, healed smoother than before. Save for… well, I’m not sure how it worked out for you, but I only have enough power within me to travel across worlds twice a year, just enough to get spring started and finished—Yakov won’t let me skip out so easy on next year’s spring. He was already furious when he caught me slipping away this year.” He gives a wide, soft grin. “So I ate my pomegranate pearls, so to speak.”

“You… _What_?” Yuuri’s blood goes cold.

“You aren’t too familiar with mortal legends, are you?” Victor laughs softly, like this is all _trivial_. “It’s nothing. Nothing at all.”

Yuuri sucks in a breath, shaking his head. “Victor, it’s _everything_. You shouldn’t have!”

Victor reaches up, slowly uncurling Yuuri’s fingers from where they’re still clutched in Victor’s robes, intertwining their fingers instead. “But I did.”

“What if you _died_?”

Victor frowns. “You sacrificed so much for me—”

“Yes, for you to _live_.” Yuuri’s voice rings out in the silence, and he even catches Makka raising her head and making sure they’re okay. He shrinks back a bit. “Y-you shouldn’t have given that up, especially not for _me_.”

Victor’s lips turn farther down, a furrow forming on his brow as he leans in closer. “No. You’re everything, and if I had to I’d do it all over again.”

A laugh escapes Yuuri’s mouth, hysterical. “E- _Everything_?”

Victor nods, moving a hand up to cup Yuuri’s cheek, running a thumb across it. “Everything. You’re the reason I’m alive. You’re the reason that wretched war and my horrible purpose in it is gone. You’re the reason I have things to look forward to when I wake up in the morning.”

Yuuri fights the grin threatening to spread across his face. “What about Makka?”

Victor, however, doesn’t fight the smile that blooms on him. “ _You’re_ the reason I have Makka.”

“O-oh.”

“Yes. Oh.” Victor finally closes the gap between them, resting his forehead against Yuuri’s. “I wish you could you see yourself a fraction of the way that I do, Yuuri. You… I’d do whatever you asked, if only you named it.”

“All I want is for you to stay by my side.” Yuuri’s chest aches with how much he wants, the fluttering of his heart—and Victor’s, apparently—loud in his chest. “Please”

“Forever.” Victor’s eyes stay locked onto Yuuri’s, keeping him unable to look away. “Throughout all eternity.”

Tears build in his eyes, but Yuuri quickly blinks them away, and instead leans in and presses his lips to Victor’s. It’s awkward, neither of them able to keep the smiles off their faces, leaving them giggling more often than not. Makka decides that she doesn’t want to miss out on the fun, jumping at them and making the lot of them fall into a mass of arms and legs and fur.

They still have a ways to go, a lot of things to talk through and work out but there’s one thing that Yuuri’s absolutely certain of:

He would be happier than any other living being in all the worlds to spend the rest of his eternity like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TL;DR:** GOD, SAYING GOODBYE IS HARD, but! I have new longfics coming, AND a sort of epilogue I’ll post in Remnants, _AND_ there will be a Victor POV companion!!!!!! So subscribe to me and/or the series if you want more, and read on for more deets. :D Thank you all so, so much for being amazing!!!
> 
> HOLY COW, THIS IS IT. WE’VE MADE IT?!?!?!?!? *wheezes* I know it’s impossible to please everyone, but I hope that this wasn’t a disappointment and that you enjoyed the ride to get here (despite… the pain……). As you may know, I’ve been going through quite a bit of grief lately! My uncle just passed away, and I care for my 94-year-old great-grandma; we’re super close and her health is slowly shuffling downhill and that’s hard. Coming to the end of this project is a different sort of grief, though? I think I’ve mentioned before that this is one hell of a self-indulgent project for me—I came to fandom after publishing kicked my ass, and Resplendent is a lot of things I love but wasn’t allowed to do. I thought _maybe_ five people would read this (I also expected it to be like 60k hAH). And the response has been? Absolutely mind-boggling??? You guys have been so lovely and amazing throughout the course of this fic, and I’m going to miss seeing familiar faces in my inbox/notifications every Saturday. You guys made this so, so special, and I doubt I’ll ever have another experience like it in my life. I cannot express my gratitude deeply or profoundly enough to everyone who's made this entire journey so beautiful, but: _thank you._
> 
> Okay, I’ll stop being cheesy now! (Even as I sob quietly over here on my side of the screen.) So, as the TL;DR said, the next fic is going to be Very Gay and Debonair (a childhood friends to arranged marriage AU) which will be around nine chapters and 30k, and then the lovingly nicknamed Jello (aka Just Let Our Walls Cave In) (written with prompts from Twitter, and takes place immediately post-Sochi, with many emotions… and soulmates and magic and Victor naked in the middle of a Walmart), and then… Retribution! Which will be half Victor’s Resplendent POV, and half post-Resplendent softness to combat the Extreme Angst. Also! There’s a sort of fluffy epilogue that’s out there elsewhere rn, but will be posted in the Resplendent short fic collection, so subscribe to my [profile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazul9/) for updates. :D
> 
> And if you want some more content before I wrap up here: ART!!! Holy cow, Kathe make a fREAKNG ANIMATION FOR RESPLENDENT??? I'M CRYING ASLKNASASKJNAS *wheezes* Check it out on [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/post/185749386613/hey-kazul9-remember-the-project-that-i-ve) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts/status/1142077068873797633)! Kathe is also spoiling me _rotten_ with [this here](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts/status/1141623906677198848) gorgeous illustration of Yuuri and Victor dancing!!! And there's [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19304512) beautiful take on The Scene from chapter thirty-one by ayawanderlust!!! THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!!!! <3 <3 <3 
> 
> I know I’ve said it twice already, but: thank you to everyone who tackled this 120k beast. There are _so many_ people that stuck with this fic from nearly the first chapter, and I can’t even begin to say how much I appreciated seeing your comments pop up every Saturday.  <3 Everyone who’s jumped in sometime while I was posting (you brave souls) absolutely made my day by joining in on the screaming! And if anyone’s just finishing binging the whole fic, holy cow! That’s a hell of a commitment, and thank you so much for taking the dive—I hope it was worth the read. :D Always feel free to chat me up on Twitter (or Curious Cat for anon or peeps without an account), or Tumblr (even if I don’t check it every day)! I don’t bite, and I love to hear from you guys!!!
> 
> You guys are absolutely the best. <3 <3 <3 Now I’m off to have a good cry about this being over.
> 
> Bacon, out.
> 
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